


I Go Back to December All the Time

by phrynewrites



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Christmas, F/F, Ficmas 2019, Starbucks AU, girlfriends without benefits, the department of public safety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:40:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 20,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21770002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phrynewrites/pseuds/phrynewrites
Summary: A collection of 25 holiday themed Scyvie drabbles from all the AUs: Girlfriends Without Benefits, Starbucks AU, and everyone's favorite, The Department of Public Safety. Curl up by the fire with a mug of hot cocoa and enjoy!Inspired by @writethehousedown's 25 Days of Ficmas prompts. Head on over and give her (and the other writers) some love!
Relationships: Scarlet Envy/Yvie Oddly
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	1. The Scarf

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hi y'all. I’m here with the first of many Scyvie drabbles this season. This one’s set in no particular au. Enjoy!

Yvie’s neck bore angry red splotches, all purpling at their rounded edges, all brought on by Scarlet, and Scarlet’s fixation on her neck, and Scarlet’s incessant desire to suck at her neck so ardently, so persistently, the night prior. 

However, Yvie didn’t realize that she was quite literally covered in hickeys, much less highly visible ones, until her and Scarlet left the house, hands wound together and warm like live wires as they made their way to the farmer’s market, a Sunday tradition. 

Or rather, Yvie didn’t notice until the barista at the coffee shop down the block handed Yvie her change and her coffee with a quirked eye and a passing glance at Scarlet, who was now wrapped around her arm, resting her cold, blushing cheek against the weathered wool of Yvie’s winter coat, with her own latte in hand, inching upward to timidly whisper “Uh, babe,” and run the pad of her index finger down the slightly curving line of hickeys she created, silencing her oncoming giggle by taking a sip of her latte as Yvie shivered under her touch.

Once they found a seat on a couch near the front window, all decorated in golden tinsel and painted snowflakes, Yvie pulled out her phone, scanning over her neck with the camera, silently cursing the reddened patches, her lack of time to get ready due to her insistence on sleeping in, and Scarlet, who rested her hand on the shredded hole of her jeans and glanced at Yvie from the side with a smirk tugging at her lips, whose bare body, with her warm breath and cute scrunched nose while snoring, was pressed against her own as she woke, inciting her desire to sleep in. 

She also cursed herself for insisting it wasn’t cold enough for a scarf, especially as Scarlet stood at the doorway, offering to tie off the ends of one she was almost finished knitting so Yvie could wear it out. 

She gently pushed at Scarlet’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Yvie asked playfully, tugging at the collar of her coat, testing how far it would go. It did not go far. 

Scarlet shrugged. “You said you it was too hot for a scarf when I offered, so I figured you just wanted to wear them out.” Scarlet punctuated by taking a sip of her drink before leaning into Yvie’s side, her hot breath against the redness of the hickeys, exhaling contently as Yvie raised an arm to accommodate for her closeness. “You’re right, by the way. They are too hot for a scarf.” 

“You’re stupid.” Yvie laughed, pushing her away, knowing she’d be met by a pout and an enamored pang in her heart. 

Scarlet unwrapped her own scarf—this big, rambling thing with finger sized holes and hearty knots from when the yarn _just wasn’t working_ with Scarlet so she cut it off and tried tying on a new color or a thicker yarn—and wrapped it around Yvie, tucking the end into Yvie’s jacket, patting it a couple times, before pulling back, inspecting her work. 

Yvie pulled it around so that the transition between sparkling mustard colored yarn and heavy sage colored yarn was in the front. She pulled it taut, taking in the sensation of warmth around her neck. It smelled like Scarlet always does, all soft and floral and fresh, even in the dead of a New York winter. Yvie pulled a bit of the edge up to her jaw and couldn’t help the flush that spread across her cheeks, that heated her ears right up to their tip. The scarf gave off the faintest sensation of Scarlet’s lips on her again.

“I know it’s not the best, but it’s the only one—” 

Yvie brushed her lips against the corner of Scarlet’s mouth, leaving a kiss where the taste of coffee once was. “No, I love it. I’m gonna wear it.” 

With that she took Scarlet’s hand in hers and the two left the shop, headed on their way toward the farmer’s market, getting on with their Sunday tradition. 


	2. Wrapping Paper Crane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi y'all. She’s back again with another Scyvie drabble. This one is set in the DOPS verse. Enjoy!

Scarlet was bored. Yvie could tell by the way she spun about in her rickety desk chair; how she kicked off her heels and folded and unfolded her legs underneath her, maneuvering precariously in her loose velvety red dress and black tights; how she put her hair up and took it down at least three times in the last ten minutes. Scarlet was very bored. 

And Yvie was either bored as well, or her usual smitten self, for spending all this time picking up on Scarlet’s bored mannerisms. 

The holiday party was only a couple hours away. The secret santa gifts were wrapped and placed under the ‘Christmas Fern,’ as deemed by Vanjie and Silky, who stung lights along its glossy leaves, piercing a couple with baubles. 

Scarlet toyed with her wrapping paper, leftover from wrapping up a box filled with tissue paper and eighty quarters—as the limit was twenty dollars and Scarlet wanted to give A’keria the money she knew she wanted, but in a _fun_ way. She turned it over in her hands, from one red plaid side to the other green plaid side, as though the lines were somehow interesting. 

Yvie scooted her desk chair over, knocking slightly against Scarlet’s desk, throwing her off and almost making her jump, suddenly alert from her dazed state. 

“I can show you how to make that into a crane.” 

Scarlet peered up over the paper. Nodding excitedly, she handed Yvie the square of paper. 

Yvie moved in closer and laid the paper flat on Scarlet’s desk, smoothing out any creases. 

“So you’re gonna fold it in half, horizontal and vertical. Like this.” Yvie made the folds then opened the paper up again, almost catching Scarlet quickly snap her line of sight from Yvie’s face, from the gentle lower of her dark eyelashes as she concentrated on the fold, back to the paper, nodding in agreement. She almost did. That, or her eyes were playing tricks on her. 

“Okay, now you’re gonna fold it diagonal, and then diagonal the other way.” She shifted the paper over to Scarlet, watching as she completed the folds timidly, her long, thin fingers lining the paper up with care before swiping the edge of her red polished thumbnail over the fold to solidify it. She looked up at Yvie, awaiting further instructions. 

“And then you’re going to collapse the folds in. So that they look like a diamond.” Yvie reached over, and resting her forearms on Scarlet’s, prickling bare skin against prickling bare skin, she pushed her folds into one another as Scarlet leaned downward to watch closely as she did it. Yvie released, allowing the paper to spring open. “So, like that.” 

Scarlet repeated her motions, this time completing the fold, smoothing out the diamond with her index finger. 

“Ok this part’s hard,” Yvie warned, taking the edge of the paper between her fingers. “We’re gonna bring this into the center crease and then do it again on the other side.” 

Scarlet brought all the paper on the other side toward the center, only to be halted by Yvie’s light chuckle and warm hand resting on her fingers. 

“No just the top part, not all of it.” She guided Scarlet’s fingers, the two pulling the paper into the center, Scarlet stealing another glance up at Yvie, noticing her lip caught between her teeth as she completed the fold. She quickly focused herself, pulling away from her thoughts of Yvie’s bottom lip and back to her thoughts about the paper crane. Scarlet laid her fingers on Yvie’s, smoothing down the fold as it popped up again. 

Scarlet’s fingers on hers felt like a transfer of an electric current to Yvie, though they left her wishing to weave them together, for their palms lessen the space between them, for the valley between her middle and fourth finger to not feel the coldness of Scarlet’s rings. She swallowed and pulled her hands away, folding them together and resting them in front of her. 

A’keria watched the two continue their charade until Scarlet had a completed crane perched the corner of her picture frame. _Those two must think they’re slick, touchin’ hands and foldin’ paper_ , she thought. She glanced over at the Christmas Fern, spotting the squat box wrapped in the same paper, which must have been wrapped by the same careful hands. She let out an amused grunt and turned her attention back to her phone. _Scarlet must think she’s slick too_ , displaying a decoration made from the same paper she wrapped her gift with.


	3. Moosh and Snowball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey y'all. I’m back again with another DOPS scyvie drabble for day 3 of ficmas. This is set a tad bit later in DOPS. Enjoy!

On one fateful evening, as the snow spilled from the sky like sifted flour, Scarlet and Yvie’s dog, Moosh, shared a look. She and the dog shared a look of complete confusion as Yvie shot in through the front door, kicking the snow off of her boots, carrying a takeout bag and something bundled up in her coat.

Scarlet put _Holiday Baking Championship_ on mute, turning toward what she thought to be a slight yelping sound coming from the suspicious bundle. “Uh, Yves…” she drew out. “What is that?”

“Taco Bell,” Yvie replied simply, placing the bag on the counter alongside her keys. “You said either that or Wendy’s and I was really feeling tacos.”

Scarlet rolled her eyes. “No, that.” She pointed.

Yvie sighed, unzipping her jacket to reveal a little white dog, all wet, shaking in Yvie’s arms. She pulled it close to her chest. “Oh this?”

Moosh climbed out of Scarlet’s lap, perching on the arm of the couch, yipping at the dog.

Scarlet pulled Moosh back, setting him on the other side of her. She scratched behind his ears, hoping to calm him down. “Yeah, that dog.”

“So I found her outside the in the snowbank,” she began, fumbling through a drawer. She pulled out a towel and wrapped the dog in it. “Just left there. No leash, no owner, nothing. So I brought her in.”

“Oh, poor baby,” Scarlet whined, shooting up from the couch to get a closer look at the dog. “She probably got lost in there, probably blended in, didn’t you?” she cooed at the dog, petting at her matted hair as she shivered in Yvie’s arms, burying her face in Yvie’s sweater.

“She doesn’t have a collar,” Scarlet noticed.

“Yeah. I thought that was weird. Maybe she got out of it somehow. We should take her to the vet tomorrow morning, see if they have a file for her.”

“Or maybe she’s got a chip in her.” Scarlet added, grabbing another towel to dry her off. “I’m sure someone’s worried sick about you,” she said in a babying voice to the dog. “We’ll find them, don’t worry sweetheart.”

Yvie transferred the dog into Scarlet’s outstretched arms, watching as she squirmed a bit before settling in, Scarlet’s grin deafening as she scooped her up, bouncing her and quietly singing _White Christmas_ to her while wandering around the kitchen as Yvie unpacked the food.

They settled back into the living room, the little white dog in Scarlet’s lap as they ate and continued watching their show.

Yvie decided to call the little white dog ‘Snowball’ for now.

Scarlet agreed, taking bites of her taco in between toweling off Snowball.

Moosh lay in his bed, next to the couch, upset.

He did not care for Snowball one bit.

They began to see this when Snowball stood near the door, staring at Yvie and Scarlet, who were still curled up on the couch, waiting for the next episode of _Holiday Baking Championship_ to come on, before taking direct action, scurrying over to them, sitting down and barking until Yvie asked “you gotta go out?” Snowball’s scurry toward the door and return to patiently waiting provided an answer.

Yvie got up, much to Scarlet’s annoyance, as she now had no one to lay against, and gathered Moosh’s extra collar and leash.

Moosh rushed toward the door at the sound of the leash jingling, only to be disappointed when Yvie ignored his frenzied advances, securing the collar around Snowball.

“Wait, Yves, what if she gets off the leash again?” Scarlet asked, folding her legs under herself, hanging over the arm of the chair. “She’s real easy to lose out there.”

“Right, right.” Yvie spun around, searching for something bright.

“Here.” Scarlet pulled a little bandana out of the cloth storage cube under the coffee table, a red one that was decorated with little cartoon reindeer and multicolored Christmas lights, which she bought for Moosh the last time she was at PetSmart. She brought it over, sat herself in front of Snowball, and tied it around her neck. “Now she’ll be bright enough to find.”

Yvie nodded and opened the door, blocking Moosh’s exit with her outstretched leg.

Yvie came back in minutes later.

Moosh did not care for Snowball wearing his bandana one bit.

So Moosh peed on Yvie’s knit hat, which had fallen off the hook by the front door.

Then Moosh tipped over the bowl of water Scarlet had set out for Snowball, licking Scarlet’s ankle as she cleaned it up with her foot and a paper towel.

Then Moosh booped Snowball on the head with his paw, trying to prod her out of his bed, before giving up and sitting on top of her, which Scarlet and Yvie thought was adorable. They took many pictures of this, excited to share them with their coworkers on Monday.

Then Moosh sneezed in Snowball’s face, which was not inherently vindictive, but seemed rude nonetheless.

But none of this seemed like a problem until Scarlet dozed off on the couch, half way through the _Twelve Days of Christmas_ finale episode, snoring quietly, her back pressed against Yvie’s chest, Yvie’s arms wrapped around her waist, her chin resting on the crown of her head. Snowball, now dry and comfortable in their home, hopped up onto the couch, curling into Scarlet’s side.

Moosh sprung up, barking at the sight, barking at another dog in his spot, standing his ground in front of the couch. Yvie tried to shush him, watching as Scarlet stirred, realizing that he wouldn’t be quiet until she held him.

She picked him up, letting him lay next to her shoulder on the couch, rubbing his exposed belly, his little tail wagging again.

“Don’t worry, baby,” she whispered to Moosh, breathing out a laugh. “You’re still our lil man.”


	4. All I Want For Christmas Is You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey y'all! Here’s a little Christmas drabble from my new au, ‘Girlfriends Without Benefits,’ a fake dating au with two dumbasses/best friends/roommates—recently dumped, confident bisexual Scarlet and still figuring it all out Yvie—pretending to be girlfriends to make Scarlet’s ex jealous…among other things. It’ll be out probably sometime this spring. But for now, here’s an off-shoot scene for day four of ficmas. Enjoy!

Yvie was on her third beer of the night when she realized she had a big problem.  
  
She stood on the polished wooden floors of the gymnasium of the school she worked at, talks of prepping worm dissections over the break and new orders for safety goggles floating right over her head as her eyes locked in on the problem, who was slightly swaying along to _Jingle Bell Rock_ in her black suede heels, talking to a group of English teachers about _The Great Gatsby_ , which she knew only a little about, but was surely joining in on the conversation with any information she could dig up.  
  
That problem was Scarlet, with her black sweater dress covered in tinsel and little baubles—though Yvie insisted it wasn’t an event people dressed up for. The problem was the way the dress stopped a couple inches above her knee, leaving her bare, toned legs visible. The problem was also how Scarlet laughed, how that gentle shake of her shoulders highlighted the shine of her hair under the fluorescents, how she quipped back, making others around her laugh as well. She always had a talent for bringing laughter wherever she went.  
  
The problem was Scarlet, though more accurately, it was the fullness of her heart and the tug at her leaded core that she felt as she watched her, absently raising the cold glass of the sweating bottle to her lips, willing it to cool her heated, slack brain.  
  
“Yvie?”  
  
“Hm?” She turned back into the conversation, finding herself met with a quirked brow, a shake of the head, and the slightest pull of a smile, before they began a new conversation about Brad the gym teacher’s newest wife.  
  
Yvie could almost hear a couple people whisper her name, followed something else, but the words were too fuzzy for her to make out. Though she’d usually listen in closer, interested in someone talking about her, the off key, far too loud singing of _All I Want For Christmas Is You_ from across the room, with all the bravado Yvie’s heard from the shower while brushing her teeth in the morning, pulled her thoughts back to Scarlet.  
  
Scarlet, who was now taking another woman by the hand, twirling her about, her steps out of time and her drink nearly spilling over her cup in typical Scarlet fashion, sang along to the song. The two laughed together as Scarlet had to crouch a bit, ducking under her arm to complete the turn.  
  
“Excuse me,” Yvie said to her group. Not waiting for a response or a confirmation that she was heard, she headed over to Scarlet, who was still singing along, and wrapped her arms around her waist from behind resting her chin on her shoulder, the tinsel balls of Scarlet’s dangling earrings rubbing against her cheek.  
  
“Hey, baby,” Yvie greeted, laying a gentle kiss on Scarlet’s cheek as she leaned toward her to receive it. “How’s it going over here?”  
  
“She’s an absolute doll, Yvie,” Linda butted into the conversation, resting a hand on Scarlet’s shoulder. “So funny, this one. The things she says!”  
  
Yvie smiled brightly back at her, masking the irritation she knew she shouldn’t feel toward someone hearing their conversation and joining in. After all, this was all for show, and they should be so glad to have an audience.  
  
“Don’t I know it. Yesterday she told me—”  
  
“Yvie!” Scarlet said in fake shock, as Yvie wasn’t even sure where she was going with that sentence, but she was playing along nicely. Scarlet turned around and poked the button on her sweater, the one resting right above her navel, warmth spreading throughout her core. She tutted with that playful glint, that slight, knowing crinkle around her eyes, before turning back to the group. Scarlet downed her nearly full drink quickly and handed Yvie the empty cup. “Could you get me another, babe?”  
  
Yvie nodded, letting her fingers linger on Scarlet’s waist for a moment before heading back toward the refreshments table.  
  
Yes, Yvie had a big problem.


	5. Let Them Eat (Angel Food) Cake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey y'all! Here’s a drabble from Starbucks au scyvie; a little scene that takes place after the end of the fic. It’s a classic, fluffy coffee shop au and I’m hoping to have this whole fic out before Christmas. Enjoy!

Scarlet was overjoyed when she peered over the espresso machine, into the nearly barren store, and saw her girlfriend, now out of her pant suit and heels from the day’s work, holding a brown paper bag in her arms. Scarlet gave the counter one last wipe down before shedding her apron and stuffing it into her bag, rushing over to gather her up in her arms and press a kiss on her lips, mumbling Yvie and pulling into a smile as she pulled away, glad to have a familiar name on her tongue again.  
  
Yvie hummed as Scarlet pulled back, still resting her hands on her arms. “I got the cake, babe,” she said, lifting the bag up slightly.  
  
“Please tell me you got something for us too,” Scarlet mumbled to herself before letting out a light laugh as she turned to grab her bag and coat. “Well, hopefully that’ll get him off our ass.”  
  
“Ah, yes, our collective ass.”  
  
“Shut up.” Scarlet rolled her eyes, shrugging on her coat and hiking her bag up onto her shoulder. “You know what I meant.”  
  
And Yvie did. The cake was for Scarlet’s neighbor, the who shared a wall with her bedroom, and has taken to fiercely rapping on the wall and yelling in his gruff New Jersey accent any time he thought they were being too loud there, which was now often. Or at least, far more often than he grew used to over the past couple years.  
  
It was annoying. Yvie suggested baking him a cake, as a peace offering, as that worked with her next-door neighbor. Then Scarlet reminded Yvie that she could barely fry eggs, let alone bake, which lead to Yvie shrugging and adding that she doesn’t know how to bake either, so she just bought a cake, took it out of its packaging, and put it onto a nice plate, smudging the frosting a bit to look more homemade. Then Scarlet threw her arms around her girlfriend and told her she was an absolute genius.  
  
Which lead to Yvie holding up a bag containing an angel food cake from the bodega down the street.  
  
Scarlet took her hand, said goodbye to her coworker, and followed Yvie out the door and down the street to catch the train back home, ready to gift this cake and then make all the noise they pleased.  
  
After dinner of course. Scarlet hadn’t eaten since the start of her shift and she could feel her stomach collapsing in on itself. They would make the peace offering and their noise after dinner.  
  
They found a couple seats, and moments after they began moving, heard a crackling over the loudspeaker, followed by a jumble of words that after years of commuting from Manhattan to Brooklyn, Scarlet could gather meant _delay_ and _hours_.  
  
Scarlet sighed deeply, deflating, staring up at the ceiling. “Oh my god, I’m so hungry.”  
  
Yvie wrapped her arm around the back of the seat. “You didn’t get to eat?”  
  
“No,” Scarlet whined. “We were busy all day. I didn’t even get a break.”  
  
Yvie rested her other hand on Scarlet’s knee. “We’ll get home soon. I’m sure it can’t take that long.”  
  
It did take that long. They’d been sitting in the same spot for about an hour, Scarlet trying to distract herself with a rousing game of solitaire on her phone. It didn’t work. Her stomach still grumbled, especially when she looked over at the bag on Yvie’s lap, the bag that held the cake they were _supposed_ to give to Scarlet’s neighbor.  
  
“Hey, crazy thought, but what if I just—”  
  
“You can’t eat the cake, Scarlet.” Yvie cut her off, staring straight ahead, knowing that Scarlet’s hand was surely headed toward the bag.  
  
“Okay, but let’s just say I did. Like I ate a piece of it. What would we do then?” Scarlet mused, opening the paper bag with her eyes, practically salivating at the thought of taking a slice of that cake.  
  
“We wouldn’t have anything to give your neighbor, Scar.”  
  
Scarlet snatched the bag out of her lap. “I can live with that.” She placed the cake in front of her all buttery and golden, and discarded the bag on the floor underneath her seat.  
  
Having nothing to cut it with, Scarlet just grabbed a chunk off the top, far too hungry to care about the stares surely shot her way from strangers, much less her girlfriend, who already knew her brazen antics.  
  
“You want some?” she asked in between bites.  
  
Yvie studied the cake for a bit before giving in. “Yeah, I guess.” She carved out a piece. “I guess we could slice it up and put it on a plate. He won’t even know the difference.”  
  
Scarlet laid her head on Yvie’s shoulder, absently picking cake crumbs out from under her nails.  
  
It was a good plan until the hours wore on and a little boy asked Yvie if he could have some cake and she couldn’t say no. And then a group of college kids asked, and she didn’t say no again. Soon most of the train car had a piece, a businessman asking for the last bit and Yvie passing him the tray, allowing him to finish it off. And now they had no cake.  
  
“Um, maybe we could try making something for him?” Scarlet suggested, watching the man messily eat, spilling crumbs all over his shirt and tie. “Something nice and easy, from a box?”  
  
Yvie pictured Scarlet with flour covered jeans and batter on the tip of her nose, smiling to herself. “Yeah, we could try that.”


	6. Put Your Feelings on Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey y'all! Here’s another miscellaneous scyive drabble from no particular au at all. Enjoy!

When Scarlet’s old friends came home for the holidays, they always set a date to head to the ice skating rink together, if for nothing more than a distraction from work and to reminisce on their younger, more carefree days of ice skating all Christmas break long. It was a time to catch up, to check in on each other’s lives.

Usually Scarlet was excited for the day. And she was still a bit excited, at least she convinced herself she was. She wanted to see her friends, for sure, but she knew that all her friends would be there with their significant others, which wouldn’t be a problem, except for the fact that her girlfriend had just broken up with her and she’d be going without her for the first time in years, terrified of both falling all over the ice without another person to help her keep upright, and of having nothing worth talking about now that her girlfriend was out of the picture.

Her best friend, Yvie, however, agreed to come with her, hopefully solving problem one, though she wasn’t sure how friends would mesh with her, say, _opinionated_ tone. But it was the night before, so she shrugged it off, resolving to have a good time regardless.

She picked Yvie up the next morning, driving the two of them over to the rink, nervously tapping her thumbs on the steering wheel, responding to Yvie’s questions with one-word answers before recoiling back into her thoughts, only to be snapped out of them again by Yvie sighing and muttering to herself “you shouldn’t be this anxious to see your _friends_.”

Yvie was right of course. And when they all met up for the first time in months, Scarlet sank right back into the group, like nothing happened. Yes, there were some contemplative looks thrown between Scarlet and Yvie from across the benches while they laced their skates up, but the cold stare Yvie met them with was steadying, firm, reliable. And Yvie’s hand resting on the small of her back did nothing but provide a sense of comfort while her friend droned on and on about what it was like to work for her dad’s law firm, though Scarlet did have to place a warning hand on Yvie’s knee at the snort she gave to the phrase ‘associate at my daddy’s law firm.”

They broke off from the group then, Scarlet stumbling for a minute on the padded floor of the lodge, unsure of her footing on these skates, before her and Yvie made their way onto the ice.

Or, more accurately, Yvie made her way onto the ice. Scarlet fell forward onto her knees the minute her blades touched the ice. But Yvie was there to pick her up and throw a laugh her way, one that should have felt like a jab in her sensitive state, but came across more like a lilt, something pillowy soft. Scarlet clung to the wall for a few feet before moving on to one hand on the wall and one hand wrapped around Yvie’s outstretched forearm, nearly slipping again, finding her hand had slid downward to grasp Yvie’s hand when she went to stabilize herself again.

They nearly made it around the rink once before Yvie decided Scarlet could do without the wall, rolling her eyes at Scarlet’s protests, which mainly consisted of her being afraid of “breaking her butt,” or worse “every single bone in her body, twice over.”

Yvie shrugged and easily stopped herself in front of Scarlet, taking both her hands and skating backwards, further and further away from the wall, what felt like more than two feet away from where they started.

“If I fall and probably die, you’re gonna have to scrape my body off of this ice,” Scarlet warned, tightening her hold on Yvie’s hands as she felt her feet turning toward one another.

“I’ll take that chance.” Yvie let one hand go, adjusting her hat, almost shocked when Scarlet rested her free hand on her hip, thumb digging into her waist harshly, breath hastening at the thought of having nothing, or no one to hold onto.

“Hey, you’re fine.” Yvie took her hand again. “Now you try moving forward, without me pulling you.”

Scarlet nodded, shakily lifting one skate off the ice, immediately falling backward, pulling Yvie down with her.

Yvie was close, so close. Her hand on the ice next to Scarlet’s cheek, sure Yvie could feel the warmth of her blush from there. And her legs, slotted between her splayed ones, one likely sore knee holding her off the ground, keeping her body from pressing into Scarlet’s. She could feel Yvie’s long curls tickle at her sharpened jaw. Yvie breath, still smelling like those cinnamon Altoids she chewed on and the occasional cigarette, made the fine hairs on her skin stand at attention. And her lips. Inches away, maybe less. A tad chapped from the winter’s wind, but still beautiful, ever so touchable, ever so tastable, a deep, rich wine color. She was undone by how they curled into a smile, how they let a cinnamon and nicotine laugh escape as Yvie rolled off of her.

A couple of her friends skated by the two, who were still taking another minute laying on the ice before trying to stand up again, listening in only for a moment, only to hear what sounded like a question, drowned out by skates shredding up the ice and the local radio station playing Christmas carols over the loudspeaker. But she did catch the reply:

“Scarlet brought her new girlfriend.”


	7. Six-Pointed Snowflakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey y'all! Here’s some early DOPS scyvie for day 7 of ficmas. This is set during the first year Scarlet’s been working for The Department of Public Safety, when she was still the administrative assistant and Yvie wasn’t deputy director yet. Enjoy!

Scarlet filed away one last form before deciding to head over to the cafeteria to grab lunch and another coffee. But as she turned to grab her wallet out of her purse behind her, she found herself mesmerized by the snow falling outside, the gentle drift of flakes riding the crisp air down to earth, sticking to the windows. The first snow of the season.

Yvie, the Police and Emergency Services Liaison and decidedly— almost minutes after she was hired—her favorite coworker, must have also been taken by the snow, as she gathered up her documents and read them while facing the window, her feet free from her high heels, crossed over one another on top of the radiator behind her desk. She highlighted something thoughtfully, holding the highlighter cap between her teeth, pausing every so often to watch the snow falling outside.

Scarlet put her wallet down and headed over to Yvie’s desk, suddenly not hungry.

“Scar,” Yvie drew out, her pitch heightening toward the end of her nickname as she spun around to face her. “You know I’m not ready with these.” She hit her gently with the stack of papers, Scarlet pouting from the fake wound.

“I know, I just wanted to spend lunch here.” She caught herself taking in Yvie’s hands, now fumbling to cap off the highlighter, the dainty gold studs that crawled up her ear, the curls resting on the peaks of her cheekbones. She took it in, over and over again, just as she had since she started months ago, when her and Brigid were in one of their all too common ‘off periods,’ just as they were now. She took it in like a stretch of sea capturing the same fragments of shells, licking at the same sand, pulling the same horseshoe crabs in and out again. It was very nearly like breathing.

Scarlet blinked a few times, thankful that Yvie had returned to marking up her papers. She settled against the radiator, staring out the window so she wouldn’t stare off at Yvie.

They sat like this for a while, Yvie quietly working, Scarlet quietly watching, counting the points on each snowflake that clung to the window before melting away. Then Yvie placed her papers in her lap, breaking through the tranquil air.

“So, how’s Brigid?” Yvie couldn’t look Scarlet in the eye as she asked. Instead, she focused on the sleeve of her sweater, how soft the white wool looked on her even softer skin.

Scarlet scoffed, still staring out the window, sure that if she stared long enough, she’d be able to make out each individual snowflake on Director McSweeney’s Corvette, that she’d be able to find the words for how she felt with Brigid generally, especially when taking into account how she felt with Yvie right now, and frankly, most of the time.

“I don’t know.” Scarlet shrugged. Six points on this snowflake. “Haven’t seen her since the last spat. I don’t know? Since Thursday?” She did know. It was since last Thursday. It occupied half or more of her thoughts at any given time.

She counted another six points on a snowflake as it melted away, the task becoming harder as tears threatened to cloud her vision.

It was a typical fight. Scarlet wanting to talk about a future with Brigid: marriage, a home, a family. Brigid wanting everything to say the same. Brigid picking up and leaving as soon as Scarlet sounded too adamant, only to return when Scarlet scrambled together an apology, resigning that what they have now is good, at bare minimum good, and she’d rather not lose the relationship over a future she rationalized into something she _wanted_ rather than _needed_.

“Hey,” Yvie said, in more of a breath, with that warmth she always had, like a crackling fire, sustained and homey. She stood next to Scarlet, wrapping her arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to her side, rubbing up and down her arm.

Comfort, that’s what it was. The comfort of a crackling fire.

Scarlet counted six points on another snowflake as Yvie let out a soft shush while Scarlet buried her face into Yvie’s waist.

“You two always work it out,” Yvie spoke again, her tone dryer, rehearsed. Of course it was. She reminded Scarlet of this every other week, though she knew just as well as Scarlet that Scarlet was always the one to work it out. She was convincing Scarlet as much as she was reminding herself.

Scarlet pulled away and nodded. “Uh-huh,” she croaked out, voice still thick from the tears.

A pause lingered. The ghost of a thought, the ghost of a hope lingered. Yvie’s hope that Scarlet would finally give up fixing herself for Brigid. Yes, it lingered, it touched every corner of their office before wrapping itself around Yvie again.

“All the snowflakes have six points,” Scarlet said softly, pointing vaguely at the window.

Yvie let out a slight laugh, ever so slight, floating through the air like the snowflakes before them. “I don’t think that true.”

“It is. I counted them.”

Yvie quirked a brow. “All of them?”

“Yep. Every one of them.” Her flat-lined lips broke into a smile. A feeble smile, but a smile nonetheless.

Yvie pushed at her shoulder gently. “You’re too much, Scar,” she said. “Too much.”


	8. Early Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey y'all! I’m back with another DOPS scyvie drabble for day 8 of ficmas. This one is set so so so much later in DOPS— like, past the plans for the ending, post epilogue in DOPS. I cannot emphasize how much later. Enjoy!

“I have something for you.”

Yvie continued chopping the bell peppers, glancing over her shoulder at Scarlet, who was practically bouncing on her toes, clearly holding something behind her back. 

“What is it, baby?” she asked, brushing the red, green, and yellow slices to the side, laying her knife down as Scarlet came in closer. She rested her head against Yvie’s arm and turned to lay a light kiss on its bare skin. 

“Just a present…” Scarlet trailed off, pushing a neatly wrapped box across the counter, Yvie chuckling lightly as she slowly pushed the cutting board off to the side, her bright, crinkling eyes locking with Yvie’s as she did it. 

Confusion struck Yvie’s brow as she eyed the gift. It was precariously not wrapped in Christmas paper, but rather the same flowery print they saved in the closet for last minute gifts, the pine green Christmas bow looking off among the pastel florals. 

“It’s not Christmas yet, Scar.” 

“I know, just open it.” her voice sounded nearly breathless as she wrapped her arm around Yvie, fingering her waist absently. 

Yvie sighed and reached for the box, deciding to play along with Scarlet and all her insistent touches. Scarlet pressed another kiss to her arm and buried herself in closer as Yvie lifted the box’s lid. 

Inside, on top of a mound of tissue paper, was a soft blue newborn onesie, covered in pale rubber duckies and bubbles. She pulled it up from the box, holding it out in front of her, marveling at the smallness, the dearness of the clothing, how it already felt warm to the touch. 

“Scarlet…I…” Yvie trailed off, trying to piece together her wife’s present, trying to understand why Scarlet’s smile now seemed fresh and saccharine as Yvie marveled at baby clothes, when before she’d be met with a sigh before reassuring Scarlet that they’d try again, they would always try again.

“There’s more. Under the tissue,” Scarlet spoke, just above a breath. 

There was. It was a positive pregnancy test, the two pink lines steady and sure.

Upon the sight, before processing, faster than the beating of her twice filled heart, Yvie pulled Scarlet in closer, her body flush against hers, her face in her hands as she brought their lips together; first in a deep kiss, the words _I love you_ vibrating off of Yvie’s palms and fingertips, and then in small, wet pecks, across her cheeks and jaw and the corner of her mouth. She tasted the salt of Scarlet’s tears, or maybe her own.

Yvie finally drew in a breath, asking on the exhale “it finally took?” A disbelief settling in as she tore herself away from Scarlet’s gaze to study the pregnancy test, still in the gift box, still nestled so dear in the tissue paper, still bearing the same two lines she branded into her mind moments ago. 

Scarlet broke into a smile, an exhaustedly radiant smile. Her words caught in her mouth, could not pass through her lips, could not run on the uneven ground of her voice. All she could do was nod. 

“We’re having a baby?” 

Scarlet tried to sniffle back another round of tears, formed by the thought that it was finally true—it was not just a want, but a reality. 

“Yes.” 

Yvie swiped the pad of her thumb across Scarlet’s cheek, wiping away her tears in vain as they continued to well up and overflow. “You’re pregnant.” She stated it as a fact, as she knew it was true—she had been told minutes prior, had seen the test, had shared the joy. But she needed it spoken plainly, plain enough to ease the tension she still felt squeezing at her heart. 

“I’m pregnant.” A laugh finally fell from her lips, a light laugh, its lilt a hummingbird’s flutter, its sound the nectar collected. “And you smell like peppers.” 

Yvie brought Scarlet close again, resting her hands gently on either side of her still taut waist. “I love you.” She pressed a kiss to her jawline, long and lingering, before settling her chin on her shoulder, standing wrapped up in one another for a moment, wrapped in the feeling of Scarlet’s fingers grazing at the curls at the base of her neck, her body stilling, relaxing. They remained like this, only taking in the sensation of cold kitchen tiles against their bare feet and the warmth of each other’s touch. 

“Oh my god,” Scarlet said with hitched breath, her eyes wide, aggressively breaking the peaceful silence. 

“What?” Yvie pulled away rapidly, one hand shifting to rest on her belly, the other tightening its grip on her waist as she scanned over Scarlet, trying to locate the source of shock, a desperate hope that she wasn’t in pain. “What’s wrong?” 

Scarlet’s gentle chuckle and her hand now resting over hers assuaged Yvie’s fears in seconds. 

“We’re probably gonna have a Gemini.” She stared off a bit, pondering deeply as Yvie let out a deep cackle. “Never mind, my math’s way off. Probably a Leo.” 

Yvie shook her head. “You’re too much, Scar.” 


	9. All The Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi y’all! Here’s another installment of Girlfriends Without Benefits Scyvie for day nine. Enjoy!

Scarlet was always a fan of Christmas. In all the years Yvie had known her, Scarlet’s joy had been a central tenet of the holiday season, the season which Scarlet insisted began the exact moment the last guest left the apartment after their annual Halloween party. Yvie’d find her shimmying about to _Rockin Around the Christmas Tree_ at 2:30 a.m. while gathering up crumpled beer cans, still in her costume, much to Yvie’s delighted annoyance. 

So Yvie knew how upset Scarlet truly was when she woke up, fever-stricken and shivering, her cough persistent enough to bring about a headache. She was not only miserable from what Yvie could easily diagnose as the flu, she was also miserable because the night prior, in between blowing her nose while they curled up on the couch, watching reruns of _Project Runway_ and eating half-burnt grilled cheese, she decided that it was the day to put up the Christmas decorations. 

She’d usually be sock-footed, twirling about in a sweater and soft leggings, nearly tangling herself up in the icicle lights she strung on their bookshelves and over their doorways. She’d usually have tinsel stuck in her hair and an insistent pout until Yvie finally gave into her whims and helped her bring the Christmas tree up from their storage locker, grabbing at Yvie’s hand as they spotted it among their folding table and chairs, among their luggage and summer clothes packed up in bins, pulling her toward it, as though there was a childlike wonder ascribed to a fake Christmas tree. Scarlet’s awe-struck grin at the plastic needles weighed down by baubles and ribbons, topped with a little springy star, pulled at her heartstrings, composed a tune she could not understand but nonetheless hummed along to. 

But as Scarlet lay in her bed, under Yvie’s weighted blanket, slowly easing out of a melatonin induced sleep, Yvie knew today was not the day for Christmas decorations—and as much as Scarlet would love walking up to a decorated apartment, she knew half of what Scarlet loved about the season was decorating _together_ , the satisfaction they shared after a long day of decorating, marveling at their work. 

As Yvie unpacked the CVS bag she just brought home, laying out the Mucinex, Gatorade, cans of soup, and a sparkling red nail polish she thought she’d enjoy when the flu passed, she spotted the bag of cheap bows Scarlet must have laid out late last night. 

It wasn’t the day for decorating, surely, but it could still be a day for Christmas cheer. 

A cough boomed through the apartment, followed by a feeble, croaking “Yves?” 

Yvie took a bow and stuck it on the Mucinex, heading down the hall to Scarlet’s room. 

“You’re awake.” Yvie sat on the edge of Scarlet’s bed, brushing her hair to the side to lay the back of her hand across her forehead. Though she shivered under Yvie’s touch, she was still far too warm. 

“Mm-hum.” Scarlet rubbed at her eyes. “It’s time to decorate.” 

Yvie breathed out a laugh, endeared by Scarlet’s single-minded nature, sure that Christmas was the only thought in her mind, and that it bounced around in there with glee. Scarlet definitely still had a fever. 

“Nope, but it is time for more medicine.” 

Scarlet let out an exaggerated whine and rolled over, away from Yvie, mumbling into her pillow that it tasted gross and she didn’t want it. 

Yvie reached over, sitting her upright, handing her the little cup of medicine. She rubbed her back, reassuring her that it was gross, yes, but it would make her feel better. 

Scarlet pouted before pinching her nose and downing the medicine in a single gulp, her face scrunching up at the bitter taste before handing the cup back to Yvie and flopping back into bed. Yvie pulled the covers up to Scarlet’s chin, lightly brushing her fingers across her cheek. 

“Just yell if you need anything, okay, Scar?” 

Scarlet nodded, gripping the blanket lightly as she turned to her side and fell asleep again. 

When Scarlet woke, she reached her arm out, trying to grasp at a tissue but finding nothing in her hand. 

“Yvie,” She groaned, still blindly grasping, as sitting up was far too difficult for her aching body. “I’m out of tissues.” 

So Yvie rose from the couch, placing a half-graded lab report back in her to grade stack, capped off her red pen, and grabbed the tissues from the coffee table, sticking a red curly bow on the side of them. 

“Here.” She placed them in the crook of Scarlet’s arm, an incessant warmth spreading through her as Scarlet cooed at the ribbon, twirling it lazily around her finger before taking a tissue and blowing her nose. 

Yvie spotted the empty glass on Scarlet’s bedside table, using Scarlet’s need for fluids as an excuse to turn away from the image of Scarlet all wrapped up in her blanket. She shoved away the thought of her best friend, so dear and so small playing with the ribbon. She turned away from her little red tipped nose and persistent flush, especially apparent under Yvie’s touch. Yes, it was best to get her some Gatorade. It was best to ignore the little, exasperated noise Scarlet let out as Yvie left the room. Scarlet did have a fever after all. 

So she came back with the Gatorade, outfitted with silver bow and a bendy straw, placing it down on Scarlet’s bedside, next to the empty water glass. 

“Come lay with me,” Scarlet grumbled into her blanket, lazily patting the space next to her. 

“Hmm?” Part of Yvie wanted to act confused, or at least, needed to confirm that she wasn’t just hearing things.

“Come lay with me,” Scarlet repeated, turning to face Yvie. Though Scarlet’s eyes were nearly closed, her dark eyelashes fluttering, adjusting to the new angle, Yvie knew she was looking right at her. She could feel it in her core. “I want to lay with you.”

“Ok.” Yvie moved toward the bed, rationalizing that her and Scarlet laid together all the time. Hell, they slept in the same bed all the time. There was nothing to it beyond comforting her sick best friend.

“Get your laptop. I wanna watch _The Office_. With Dwight. When he wants to be Santa. Like Santa, but scary and German,” She rambled on, shooing Yvie away with her hand. “Please, Yves.” 

So Yvie returned with her laptop, crawling in next to Scarlet, bringing up Netflix and readjusting their positions, so that Scarlet was on her side with Yvie’s behind her, her arm wrapped around her waist, fingering absently at the well worn fabric of her sweatshirt, the laptop set in front of both of them—a setup all two familiar to the two. 

Scarlet reached around to place the tissue box in front of her, peeling off the bow and with a slight whine at the movement, the aching she in her back, turned to face Yvie. She stuck the bow on her forehead, giving it a gentle pat before leaning up slightly to lay a soft, searingly warm kiss on Yvie’s cheek, giving that a gentle pat as well before turning away from Yvie again, lazily hitting at the spacebar of Yvie’s laptop until the episode began playing. 

Yvie smiled up at the ribbons hanging down from her forehead—now limp from Scarlet playing with them—only able to see them if she crossed her eyes. 

Scarlet hummed, intertwining her fingers with Yvie’s, pulling her in closer “You’re warm—” she was cut off by her light, throaty laughter at Jim contemplating the blueness of his shirt, the laugh quickly turning into a coughing fit. Yvie rubbed circles on Scarlet’s back with her free hand. 

Scarlet cleared her throat when she was finished. “Thank you, Yves. I love you so much,” she muttered, leaning her head back against Yvie’s chest, chasing her warmth, letting out another giggle at Dwight explaining his Dutch Christmas on the farm, still finding it funny though they watched the episode every year.

Yvie hummed in agreement, running her thumb over Scarlet’s knuckles, curiously thankful that Scarlet’s laugh drowned out her reply of “I love you too,” that her fever ensured she wouldn’t pick up on it. She brushed the thought aside. They said it all the time. 

She brushed her free hand over her cheek, where Scarlet had just left a kiss. Maybe she was getting sick as well. 


	10. Scarlet's Christmas Vest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: It’s been a long, hard day, but I found some time for day 10! Here’s a little bit of DOPS Scyive, not really adhering to the timeline I set up, but too cute not to include. Enjoy!

“Miss Yvie, what are you doin’ out here in that sweater?” 

Yvie and Scarlet were barely through the door, Yvie unzipping her jacket to accommodate for the heat of the office, when A’keria threw that question her way. Scarlet continued on past her, setting herself up at her desk. 

“It’s ugly sweater day, remember?” Yvie glanced down at the sweater, this chunky knit vest thing that she wore over a turtleneck. It was split into quadrants of green and red: a felt snowman in the bottom left, a Christmas tree decorated with candles in the bottom right, a wreath in the top left, and a gingerbread man with a broken leg in the top right. It had square, wooden buttons.

It was a deeply ugly sweater. 

A’keria rolled her eyes. “I know that, Yvie.” She gestured to her own sweater—plain red with little red stones down the sleeves, clearly indicating that this was as ugly as she would go, making Yvie think back to A’keria’s ‘red is _not_ my color’ speech from two years ago. “But I also know Scarlet wore that _thing_ last year.” 

Across the room, Scarlet tried not to pout at A’keria’s disdain for her sweater, shaking her head slightly before returning to scribbling down some notes on their website analytics. 

“And now she’s out here in something halfway normal and you’re over here in.” A’keria raised a brow, requiring a response to her statement. 

Yvie shrugged. “Scarlet let me borrow hers because it’s just terrible enough to win the ‘Ugliest Sweater Contest’.” She glanced over at Scarlet, adding “and even then, it’s still really nice and cozy.” 

She stirred the straw in her coffee, muttering under her breath “and my dog tore mine up.” 

A’keria stifled a cackle at the thought of Yvie’s little dog having the good sense to tear up that ugly sweater. It must have taken him all day to pull apart the threads, rendering Yvie’s ‘Jesus in a party hat’ sweater a pile of shredded up poly-acrylic. 

To be fair, both Yvie and Scarlet had bad taste in sweaters.

“Don’t laugh. He gets so angry now.” 

A’keria let out a cackle, drawing the whole office’s attention. Silky wandered over to join in on the fun. 

“You got that dog tearin’ holes in your shit?” Silky rested her hand on A’keria’s shoulder, trying to steady herself from laughter. “You got an angry little dog?” 

“She’s got that angry little dog, goin through its terrible twos.” Akeria finally breathed in between laughing. “And now that tiny thing’s tearin’ into your shit.”

Yvie rolled her eyes. “He’s not even angry all the time, like he’s just angry with me, and like…” Yvie trailed off, pondering for a moment. “…anyone I bring home.” 

Silky wiggled her brows. A’keria smacked her lightly, flashing her a rapid look, a quick glance over toward Scarlet’s desk before pulling back to the conversation. 

“It’s weird, he never touches Scarlet’s stuff.” 

Well, he did touch it, technically, but he was far gentler. Occasionally she’d come home to Moosh laying in Scarlet’s dirty laundry, discarded at the foot of the bed. Or he’d be wrapped in a blanket she’d just used the night prior while napping on the couch after work. Once, Scarlet thought she lost Moosh for about half an hour, before she found him curled up in a basket of clean, warm laundry, fresh from the dryer, blending in with Scarlet’s dark towels. 

A’keria fingered at the felt snowman, flicking at his protruding carrot nose, mumbling “well, I wish he would.”


	11. The Gingerbread Ornament

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Due to finals handing me my ass, gift wrapped, in a box, I had to break my streak of 25 days of scyvie drabbles—so this one had to be made up. Anyway, here’s some dops Scyvie. Enjoy!

“Okay, I know we put up the gingerbread ornament.” 

From the kitchen, Scarlet hummed in reply, taking a tray of sugar cookies out of the oven. 

“Where’s that fucking ornament?” Yvie whispered to herself, closing her laptop and getting up to search the tree. Brooke’s email about the point spread before the election could wait. Right now, she needed to know that she wasn’t just seeing things. 

She combed through the tree—careful of Scarlet’s beaded angels and strands of fake pearls. She found her little red and green balls, her showman ornament, her snowflakes, the garland of little paper cranes her and Scarlet made—all of that was still in place. 

She grabbed a chair from the dining room table as Scarlet checked the bottom of the cookies with a little spatula, deciding it was best to let Yvie have her moment with the ornaments, before she’d surely realize that it was still there. 

Yvie pulled the chair up to the tree, stepping up on it and inspecting all the ornaments at the top. The tinsel balls were all in place, as was the little snowglobe, and the most recent additions: a few keepsake frames with Scarlet and Yvie on their first real date, the two of them with Moosh at the dog park, a group photo of The Departmet with the City Hall Santa, and the two of them at A’keria’s wedding—all the important ones, scattered underneath the star. 

But no gingerbread man. 

“Baby, we put up the gingerbread man, right?” Yvie called into the kitchen, were Scarlet was still messing around with those cookies, trying to get festive sprinkles onto them before they fully cooled. 

“I’m sure we did,” Scarlet replied. “We put up everything we had.” 

So Yvie shrugged and brought the chair back into the kitchen, returning to her work. 

They continued like this for a while, Scarlet putting the cookies back into the oven to let the sprinkles set in, Yvie corresponding with an anxious Brooke, who couldn’t put thoughts of the upcoming election aside for the holiday. 

Yvie brought her laptop back out into the kitchen as Scarlet was transferring the cookies onto a rack to cool. 

“Yves look, they came out so good.” Scarlet gingerly picked one up, which was shaped like a perfect snowflake, showing it off to Yvie. 

“That’s great, baby.” Yvie leaned down to place a kiss on Scarlet’s cheek. “Also, Brooke needs to know—hold on, let me pull it up…” Yvie placed her laptop on the counter, scrolling through all 46 emails she’d received from Brooke that day, while Scarlet came up behind her, resting her chin on Yvie’s shoulder. “She wants the  _ comparitive analysis of webtraffic between posts and stories on Instagram _ .” 

“Right, let me get my computer.” She gave Yvie a light pat on the shoulder and left, coming back after a few minutes, oddly without her laptop. 

“Come look at this.” She took Yvie’s hand and led her back into the living room, to the corner where Moosh’s bed was. 

Moosh was in his bed, all curled up around Yvie’s gingerbread ornament, stirring slightly at Scarlet’s light laugh, shifting to now lay on top of the felt gingerbread man. 

“Why would he…” Yvie began, before shaking her head and bending down to slowly slip the ornament out from under her dog. She hung it back on the tree—higher up this time, so Moosh couldn’t reach it, and then bent back down to give him a little scratch behind the ears. “You’re a little rascal, Moosh.”


	12. Holiday Cups

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey y’all! I’m back again after a slight break due to school being exhausting. Here’s your regularly scheduled day 12 of scyvie with a little Starbucks au for your nerves. Enjoy!

Yvie was back at Starbucks, ordering her usual latte, at her usual time, from her usual— and favorite— barista, Scarlet. 

Today, Scarlet seemed more excited than usual as she took the order from the man in front of her: a grande mocha with pumpkin sauce, which was an order Scarlet shouldn’t be excited about. It nearly made Yvie’s stomach turn, just thinking of the combination of chocolate and pumpkin, reminiscing on Scarlet’s secret Halloween drink. But nonetheless, Scarlet had that stupid little grin as she rang him up. 

Scarlet wrote his name on a red cup with green polka dots, her handwriting loopy and sweet, writing ‘Anthony’ with a curly ‘y,’ crossing the ‘t’ right at the top of it, everything so even and beautiful, as though she always wrote in calligraphy. She held the sharpie cap between her teeth, concentrating on marking down his order on the side of the cup, filling the correct boxes with loops rather than check marks. Everything about her was soft and airy, like silk against her skin, like chiffon in a spring breeze. 

How she managed her bright demeanor at six a.m., when it was still dark outside for heaven’s sake, would always be a mystery to Yvie. 

She capped the sharpie and pushed the cup down the line, Yvie’s gaze following Scarlet’s long fingers, with her cropped, clean nails and her dainty little rings until she let the cup go and the man walked off to the side to wait for his drink to be made.

Scarlet looked up from the register, breaking into a little shimmy when she saw Yvie approach. 

“Yvie, look, we got the holiday cups.” Scarlet gestured to the whole rack of cups next to her, all grandiose and smiling. “They’re really cute this year.” 

“They really are.” 

“So the usual then?” She didn’t wait for a reply, knowing that Yvie never deviated from her usual order of a tall latte and a blueberry scone, namely, the one with the most blueberries, though Yvie never specified that, Scarlet just made it a habit to scrounge around the tray of scones to find her the best one for her—and the best one meant the most blueberries.

Scarlet blindly pulled the first cup out, frowning at it before setting it aside, pulling out another. 

Yvie was perplexed. 

“What’s wrong with that one?” Yvie asked, pointing at the white cup with block letters spelling out ‘Merry Coffee.’

“I’m just looking for a red one.” 

Yvie didn’t know why she expected Scarlet’s explanation to clarify. Though it did amuse. 

Though everything that woman did amused Yvie. She began her mornings thoroughly amused and endeared.

“Why are you looking for a red one, Scarlet?”

“Because I saw you staring at that one the guy in front of you got.” Scarlet said plainly, as though it were all that simple. “So I’m getting you the cup you want.” 

Scarlet finally pulled it out with a satisfied hum, holding it up to Yvie to show her the cup she was sure she wanted so bad. 

Yvie nodded, feeling a blush creep up her beck and spread across her cheeks. It was sweet that Scarlet cared so much about something as simple as her morning coffee. And it surely covered up the fact that she was staring at her, more specifically at her hands. 

Scarlet wrote Yvie’s name and order, just like she usually did, rang her up, and handed her the scone in it’s crinkly little baggie, like she always did. 

And though Yvie left just as she always did, with her latte and scone, she felt different. 

Maybe it had something to do with the holiday cup. Or the little snowman Scarlet drew next to Yvie’s name.


	13. Feeling the Christmas Spirit - a Bit Too Much

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey y’all! Here’s some more holiday DOPS scyvie. Enjoy!

It was only 9:43 a.m. and Silky was already growing frustrated. 

Her workload was as heavy as it usually was, especially since she was just going to wing it as she was just planning on winging it in the Press Room after Brooke’s Mayoral Debate—though Brooke gave her explicit orders _not_ to. Her and Ki even got to talk some shit about Christine’s _obvious_ nose job before Scarlet and Yvie came into work. Silky even got her coffee from the hot barista today, and was very sure he was looking her up and down as he pressed down on the pump for the liquid sugar—because why wouldn’t he?

But the incessant jingling of Scarlet’s earrings made Silky want to hurl her computer at Scarlet’s desk. 

They were little silver jingle bell earrings, cascading downward, letting out their incessant little ring every time Scarlet moved her head. They were actually quite cute, Silky could admit. And she knew how much Scarlet loved Christmas, and that the feeling of Christmas spirit had to be amplified by her and Yvie spending their first Christmas together as a real couple, which lead to both holiday accessories with her outfits, and the jingling of the earrings. 

Yvie and Scarlet were working away at the Police Academy Curriculum, sat in their usual positions at Yvie’s desk, editing the second draft of the workbook together, being all too touchy, trading jokes back and forth as they searched for proper colon usage throughout the document. And this would not be a problem to Silky on a regular day, as this type of behavior was a regular day for those two. But as Scarlet threw her head back to exaggeratedly roll her eyes, the mix of those damn jingle bells and Yvie’s cackle was all too much for Silky. 

“Can y’all fucking cool it,” Silky shot from across the room, staring at the two of them, who were just beginning to calm down from Yvie’s joke about the new dog in the apartment below them, whom Yvie believed Moosh had taken a liking to and might just have a crush on. It was less of a question and more of a demand.

“Oh, sorry—” 

Yvie cut Scarlet off, resting her hand on top of hers. “What’s your problem?” 

“You hos.” Silky pointed between the two of them. “Being all loud over there.” 

“We’re this loud every day,” Yvie said, tilting her head back at Silky. 

“Yeah, Yvie’s laugh is always like that. It’s like, it doesn’t have any other volume.” Scarlet giggled, intertwining her and Yvie’s fingers, their hands resting on the arm of Yvie’s chair. 

“So what’s your problem today, Silk?”

“Those fucking earrings,” Silky mumbled to herself. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you. What’s the problem?” Yvie pressed again, feeling a bout of anger rising in her chest. 

Scarlet laid her head on Yvie’s shoulder, giving her a light shush and rubbing her hand, her earrings jingling with their slight metallic clang.

“It’s those fucking earrings!” Silky yelled back, throwing her hands up. “They’re jingling all over the damn place.” 

“They’re just earrings,” Yvie replied. 

“I made them myself.” Scarlet pouted.

“And why are you moving your head so much? Is everything she says funny? Do you two always gotta be cute with those damn earrings on?” 

“Kinda.” Scarlet reached over to bop Yvie’s nose. Yvie let out a chuckle in response. 

“Stop that. You two stop that.” Silky shook a finger at them before gathering her things and shoving them into her bag. “I’m gonna work in the conference room.” And with that, Silky left in a huff, slamming the conference room door behind her. 

“I think she’s just jealous, babe.” Yvie played with one of the earrings, batting it around with her finger.

“I think she needs to get laid,” Scarlet said, earning a shove from Yvie. 

Silky threw the door open. “I heard you hos.” She directed her glare at Scarlet before slamming the door closed again, the blinds rattling. Silky stood in front of the window out to the department, motioning between Yvie and Scarlet to let them know she was watching. 

Yvie gave Scarlet a kiss on the cheek, Scarlet moving in to accept it, her earrings still jingling. 

“You’re an absolute savage.” 

Scarlet shrugged and signed back into her laptop. “Maybe so.” 


	14. Bundled Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey y'all! Here’s some more Starbucks AU scyvie for day 14. Enjoy!

Scarlet decided that once December hit, it was time to bundle up. Even if the temperature was nearing forty on the off day, she’d never be found without her scarf, hat, and mittens, keeping her toasty in the New York winter. 

Yvie, however, did not share this philosophy. And as she walked to pick Scarlet up after work, she harsh whipping wind reddening her skin, wishing she wore a heavier coat instead of the sleek tan peacoat she knew Scarlet loved on her, she knew Scarlet’s philosophy was always right. She wished she’d had the good sense to listen to Scarlet, squinting at the light streaming in from their bathroom while Yvie applied her makeup, as she rolled over to grab Yvie’s pillow and hold it close, mumbling “it’s gonna be cold, baby.” 

But instead Yvie opened the weather app, noted the high of forty-two, not noticing the low of eighteen. And she surely didn’t see the wind-chill warning for later in the night. So she shrugged off the suggestion, finished getting ready, and left a kiss on her sleeping girlfriend’s forehead, heading out of her apartment without a hat, scarf, or gloves. 

She could feel her fingers growing numb around the handle of her brief case as the approached the Starbucks, the warm air stinging as she entered the store. She threw her bags down and sank into her usual armchair, now empty during what Scarlet called the ‘7 p.m. lull,’ explaining to Yvie that she was the only crazy person who drank coffee at night while still managing to fall asleep only hours later. 

Yvie exhaled a hot breath, rubbing her hands together. She absolutely should have worn gloves. 

Upon finishing and handing off her last drink of the night—a venti iced coffee with three shots and no cream to a woman precariously balancing a toddler and two heavy textbooks in her arms—and telling the woman to have a _fabulous_ night, wiggling her fingers at the smiling little boy, Scarlet peeled off her apron, gathered her things, and came around to the front of the store.

Scarlet perched herself on the arm of the chair, leaning into Yvie’s side, playing with the lapel of her coat. “You miss me, baby?” She asked in her little, cloying voice. 

Yvie sighed, relishing the warmth of Scarlet’s touch so close to her neck. “God, I couldn’t wait to get here. I’m like, this close to losing it with the Charles case.” She nearly pinched her fingers, holding them up inches away from Scarlet’s face. “This close, Scar.” 

Scarlet shook her head, frustrated on Yvie’s behalf. “It’s like, the third week in a row you’ve been pulling overtime. Six to six is ridiculous.” 

Yvie shrugged. 

“Well, let’s finally go home, yeah?” Scarlet put on her coat, gathered her things, and held her hands out to Yvie, pulling her up out of the sunken leather chair. 

Scarlet lingered on her hands for a moment, still cold and raw from being outside, rubbing at them together with her own. 

“Yvie,” she began, drawing it out in playful admonishment. 

“I know,” She replied, practically melting into the warm touch of Scarlet’s hands on hers, the soft skin, perpetually coffee scent, doing wonders to ease her stiff, course hands. “I should have worn gloves.”

Scarlet dropped her hands to rummage through her bag, leaving Yvie missing the closeness, missing her even though she was standing only inches away. 

Scarlet pulled out a pair of mittens, nearly identical to the one’s Scarlet wore, but this time in black with little silver buttons along the cuff. 

“You’re lucky I brought these spares.” Scarlet took her hand, fitting the mitten on it. “Because I know you’re _stubborn_.”

Yvie nodded, though from anyone else, a poke at her stubbornness was an insult—from Scarlet, it was a term of endearment. 

The two, now bundled up, left the store, hand in hand, mitten in mitten, and headed home after a long day of work, cozy in the whipping winter wind. 


	15. A Fireside Meal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey y'all! I’m back with some more dops scyvie for day 15. Enjoy!

Brooke, at the insistence of Vanjie, held a Christmas dinner for The Department at her home.  
  
Yes, it was a sprawling home. It had high ceilings, a brushed brass chandelier in the foyer that looked like it held floating, dripping candles, all aglow in a wash of pale yellow. A kitchen with stainless steel appliances. Two cats, who liked people enough for her guests to enjoy their presence.  
  
But she didn’t have a dining room table. She usually ate at the breakfast bar in her kitchen, so she never found herself missing the homeyness of a dining room table, so she never bought one. She explained this fact over and over to Vanjie, questioning how they could host a dinner without a table, but was consistently overpowered by Vanjie’s stories about her and her cousins eating on the floor of the living room during Christmas dinner, watching the crackling fire before them.  
  
Then of course Nina and Shuga claimed they wouldn’t mind spending Christmas at Brooke’s, table or no table. And Silky backed Vanjie up, which lead to A’keria backing Silky up. And then Scarlet mused on how quaint it would be to eat by the fire, walking a couple fingers up Yvie’s arm with a flat, smug grin spreading across her face, as though eat by the fire would stir Yvie up. And knowing those two, it did, so Yvie agreed as well.  
  
Scarlet and Yvie stood at Brooke’s door, nearly thirty minutes early, a sweet potato casserole and a plate of biscuits between them—Scarlet’s recipe, of course, though Yvie was fully prepared to chime in that she made the honey butter to go with the biscuits.  
  
“Her house is so…imposing,” Scarlet commented, wishing she didn’t have a hot dish in her hands, just so she could try out the iron door knocker. “It feels like a lair, but in suburbia.”  
  
Yvie rang the doorbell. “Yeah, like we’re just gonna walk in and she’s gonna be there, stroking a cat.”  
  
Scarlet cast a glance between the door knocker and Yvie.

Yvie banged the door knocker against the maroon door, much to Scarlet’s delight.  
  
“God, I’m here.” Brooke threw open the door, shifting Henry in her arms, rolling her eyes at the look Scarlet and Yvie shared, as though something she did was amusing. “You can put those on the coffee table, I guess.” She turned and walked back into the kitchen, stroking Henry behind the ears.  
  
“Thank you!” Scarlet called after her as Yvie grumbled something about hospitality.  
  
They put the food down and sunk into Brooke’s leather couch, Yvie wrapping her arm around Scarlet’s shoulder, bringing her in closer, ever closer, until her head rested on her chest and she could now play with Scarlet’s hair, loosening her curls.  
  
“I hope they like it,” Scarlet muttered against Yvie. “Haven’t used those recipes in a while.”  
  
Yvie let her hand rest on the small of Scarlet’s back, knowing her need for reassurance, her anxiety about spending Christmas without Brigid’s family or her own, how easily she spiraled into those inky, slippery feelings of believing she wasn’t supposed to be anywhere, that she wouldn’t be wanted anywhere. They all started like this.  
  
Yvie shushed her, rubbing gently at her back. “Of course, they will. It’s all going to be lovely, Scarlet.”  
  
Scarlet closed her eyes, easing into the touch, the petal-soft way Yvie played with her hair, she sound of a crackling fire before her, intermingled with the occasional reassurance that she’ll be fine, spoken with a warm timbre so compatible with the steady brag of Yvie’s heartbeat in her ear.  
  
It really was lovely, all of it. And it was enough to send her adrift into a light sleep.  
  
Of course, this only lasted a few minutes, at first feeling Yvie gently shake at her shoulder, the touch nothing more than a nudge in her near-lucid state, then a pronounced groan from Silky and Vanjie’s gruff voice calling out “hey lesbians, it’s time to eat!”  
  
Yes, it was a lovely meal shared with friends, backlit by the orange haze of the fire and the sparkling air of laughter ever-present around it.


	16. Meeting Carol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi y’all! For day 16 of ficmas, here’s a special sneak peek into @scarletenvynyc and my most beloved of collaborative projects, suitcase au. It’s a story about a freak snowstorm, getting stranded in the airport together, and Scarlet deciding that this woman she’s spent fourteen hours with in Chicago ORD is her wife, just so they can sit together because being apart just doesn’t feel right anymore. It’ll be out when we both have a break from our own projects, but in the meantime, please enjoy a little holiday snippet from this au!

“I can’t wait to meet your girlfriend, Yvonne!” 

Yvie flattened her lips and pulled back at the sound of Carol’s gritting voice. Every time she heard that woman, all she could think of was accidentally slicing her finger while grating cheese, nicking herself with a razor while shaving in the shower, removing a staple with her blunt fingernails and splitting one down the middle by force alone. All at the same time. That saccharine, lyrical tone brought about such high annoyance, moderate pain, and a pinprick of blood that seemed to have a pulse. 

Yvie did not care for Carol from Accounts Payable. Not one bit. 

Nonetheless, she nodded and downed her eggnog, using her now empty glass as an excuse to rid herself of Carol’s company. She headed over to the back of the office to refill her cup and peruse the spread of food for the party, mentally noting that her girlfriend’s spinach artichoke dip would likely be the star among the veggie platters and puff pastries. 

Carol followed the click of Yvie’s heels like a puppy, nipping at her ankles, incessantly yapping. Yvie rolled her eyes ardently, hoping Scarlet would find the spoon she brought for the dip quickly, that she’d be back from the car soon, relieving her from Carol’s questions with her presence. Scarlet was always wildly endearing with strangers, and if anyone could distract Carol from her questions, it would be Scarlet. 

“So is your girlfriend just here for the holiday?” Carol asked, her glass clinking with Yvie’s as she dipped into the bowl of eggnog, the sound harsh and clear. “She’s from New York, right?”

“Yes.” Yvie replied curtly, pulling her phone out of the back pocket of her trousers, breaking a smile at Scarlet texting that she got a little distracted talking to the secretary, but that she’d be right in. 

Carol mashed her lips together and tried again. “So when’s she coming? The party’s already in full swing.”

Yvie glanced over at her coworkers talking quietly in small groups, the accountants still in their cubicles, picking at plates of cookies, executives still in their offices, and the intern looking around anxiously before placing a second pig in a blanket on his plate and scurrying back to his desk. 

It was a real party alright. 

“Hi, Yves,” Scarlet called across the room, sticking the spoon in the crook of her arm to adjust her dress—this red thing with a bow tied perfectly at her waist and a flowing skirt that brushed at her her knees as she surged forward in her little heels.

She stuck the spoon her dip, tutting lightly as she stirred it a bit, breaking up the film that was forming over the top in her absence. Satisfied, strode over to Yvie, getting up on her tip-toes to receive a kiss on the cheek. 

“Where’d you find it babe?” Yvie asked, wrapping a hand around Scarlet’s waist. 

“Okay so I totally forgot that we put it in the bag, the cloth one where we used to keep the—” she cut herself off, feeling a blush rising, especially when met with Yvie’s quirked brow, the two knowing _exactly_ what they kept in the cloth bag in Yvie’s car and how much they both loved it. “Well either way, I forgot that we moved _that thing_ to the glovebox, so the spoon was just in the bag, out in the open. We totally missed it.” 

Scarlet shrugged, returning to her bubbly state, a wave of champagne washing over Yvie’s skin as Scarlet teasingly ran her fingers up Yvie’s arm, the silk of her dress shirt smooth against the pads of her fingers, her voice thick as she leaned up to whisper “it’s still in the glove box. So maybe later we could—”

“Hi, I’m Carol.” Carol stuck her hand out enthusiastically, waiting for Scarlet to take it. 

Scarlet matched Yvie’s rolling eyes with the slightest of smirks, a pull at the corner of her lips before peeling away, returning Carol’s handshake. 

“I’m Scarlet.” She shook firmly, wrapping her hands around Carol’s hand, pulling away the moment Carol realized her own handshake was limp. She flashed a smile at Carol, glancing off to the side at Yvie trying to analyze the encounter. “I’m the girlfriend.” 

“Oh,” Carol drew out, as though she weren’t just prodding Yvie about her minutes ago. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m the Carol.” She ended on a laugh, forced and artificial. 

Scarlet cut it short. “Yes, you already told me you were Carol.”

“Right, of course.” Carol took a slow sip of her eggnog. “So, what do you do for a living?”

“Graphic design, web planning, app creation, some coding here and there. Basically a bunch of tech stuff.”

“Wow, Yvonne,” Carol tried to draw Yvie back into the conversation, pulling Yvie out of her analysis of Scarlet talking with Carol, pulling her out of her analysis of how to get Scarlet spread on her desk in the middle of a working day. “Your girlfriend sounds really talented.” 

“I am.” Scarlet checked her nails.

At the sight of Carol, stood in front of them like Scarlet had just whipped the wind out of her, Yvie took Scarlet’s hand, lacing their fingers.

“Well, I think we’re gonna go meet some more people, yeah?” Scarlet glanced up at Yvie, holding back a smirk as she saw her girlfriend biting her lip. “But it was _so_ nice to meet you Carol.” 

With that, Scarlet grabbed a mozzarella stick from the table, shoved it in her mouth, and lead Yvie away, leaving a deeply confused Carol in her wake. 

“God, I hate that woman,” Scarlet whispered as they rounded a set of cubicles. 

Yvie brought their intertwined hands up to her lips, laying a kiss on Scarlet’s before opening up her office door and pulling her inside. 


	17. Lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey y'all! Here’s another little snipped of Girlfriends Without Benefits for day 17. Enjoy!

Scarlet lowered her magazine. “Yvie, please be careful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yvie mocked, standing on a rolling desk chair, which was apparently, as Yvie assured Scarlet, in _locked position_ , trying to fix the twitching lights on their Christmas tree. For some reason, Yvie was sure the offending bulb, the bulb that was trying to ruin Scarlet’s immaculately decorated tree, was toward the top.

“Alright.” Scarlet went back to flipping through the magazine, landing on a french toast recipe, which seemed doable for their skill level. “Yves, what if we try this tonight for dinner?” She held out the magazine, running her finger over the glossy plate of french toast with fresh cream and raspberries.

“Yeah, sure,” Yvie agreed before turning to look.

As she twisted to look at the magazine, the chair rolled out from underneath her, sending her crashing to the ground, her shoulder slamming into the hardwood, a groan spilling from her lips, at first deep, then trailing off in a whimper as she tried to lift herself up.

“Don’t move. Oh my God, don’t move.” Scarlet scrambled to Yvie’s side. “Where’s the pain? Is it all on this side?” She lifted Yvie’s left hand a little too harshly, smoothing out her rough motions as Yvie sucked at her teeth to ease the pain.

She bent each finger, then pressed against the bones of Yvie’s forearm, only eliciting a reaction—a screeching cry followed by a guttural moan, blinking out tears—when she tried to rotate Yvie’s arm.

“Scarlet,” Yvie said, a hair above a whisper, still crying. “Please. It’s the shoulder.”

“Oh God. Okay. Right. The shoulder,” Scarlet stumbled out, lowering Yvie’s arm gently. “You fell on the shoulder. What do we do about the shoulder? Do we ice the shoulder? Heat? Do I need to get the bag of beans? A bath? An ice bath?” Scarlet’s brain was overheating, frantically flipping through any way to ease Yvie’s pain.

Yvie winced as she chucked. “Scarlet, please.”

“Will eucalyptus oil help this, you think?” She reached over and grabbed a pillow from the couch and rolled Yvie over so she could fit the pillow under her shoulder.

“The hospital would help this.”

“Right, right.” She reached over Yvie’s body to grab her phone, while Yvie cursed her shoulder, that christmas light, and Scarlet’s affinity for wearing flimsy tank tops without bras. “I’ll call an Uber.”

***

They waited at the hospital for what seemed like hours. Yvie squirmed around on the hard plastic chair, Scarlet trying to still her body and her frantic mind by holding her hand, stroking her palm.

“I can’t move my shoulder.” Yvie repeated, probably for the fourteenth time since they’ve been here. “Scarlet what if it’s a goner? What if they have to cut it all off?”

“I’m not gonna let them cut it off, Yvie.” Scarlet said, tone firm, though the gulped at the thought of Yvie losing an arm over her silly little Christmas lights.

“But Scar, what if they _gotta_?”

“You’re gonna leave here with both arms, baby. I promise.” Scarlet wove their fingers together.

Yvie somehow believed Scarlet more now, thought she couldn’t place why. There was something about Scarlet’s firmness, how she rambled on and on about how she was going to be alright and they’d go home after and Scarlet would make her the most wonderful french toast she’s ever had, how she took her hand in hers and gripped tightly to her eucalyptus oil with the other. There was something steady about Scarlet.

“Yvangeline Bridges?” A nurse called from across the room.

Scarlet helped her up—though her legs were perfectly fine—and walked her over to the nurse.

“So you’re Yvangeline?” The nurse pointed at Yvie, who nodded in reply.

She turned to Scarlet. “Then who’s this?”

“I’m Yvie’s girlfriend.” Scarlet replied easily, quickly, insistently. It was as smooth as a fact—Scarlet wished it were a fact.

It made Yvie’s mind race, spinning in circles, dizzying itself, trying to figure out why Scarlet bothered keeping up their charade here, at the hospital, where it wouldn’t matter if they were together.

But as the nurse brought them back and had Yvie sit on the bed, prodding at her arm, the surge of pain she felt, stinging, needling pain, pulled her out of her contemplation. She didn’t even notice Scarlet holding her hand, stroking her free arm up and down, the cool glass of Scarlet’s eucalyptus oil against her skin, the hot breath in her ear, assuring her that she’d be fine, it’s just a few tests.

“There’s not a lot of swelling and it’s still in the socket. It’s probably just a pull.”

“A pull!” Yvie burried herself in Scarlet’s chest, whispering “oh my god I’m gonna lose my fucking arm” over and over while Scarlet smoothed her hair.

“What does it mean? Will she be okay? What do you have to do for that?” Scarlet asked, rapid-firing the questions, her anxiety stinging them too closely together.

“It means it’ll just be fine with some rest, some ice.” She scribbled something on the clipboard. “Probably prescribe some painkillers.”

“Okay but what can we do with this?” Scarlet held out the oil, waving it back and forth. “Is this gonna help? I think it’ll help.” Yvie nodded against her chest, still crying, muttering “the whole arm, _the whole arm_.”

The nurse scrunched her nose at the scent, snatching it from her hand and throwing it out in the trash can behind her. “It’s not going to do anything but give all of us a cluster-migraine.”

“I don’t think so, but whatever,” Scarlet grumbled, stroking Yvie’s hair.

The nurse rolled her eyes, sticking her pen back through the clipboard with a tad too much force. “I’m gonna get you a sling and then you’re free to go.”

“You can go, Yvie.” Scarlet reassured her, her voice cotton soft. “You get to keep your arm, baby. It’s all alright.”

Yvie sniffled and nodded against Scarlet’s now tear-stained tank top.

When the nurse walked back in on those two sitting at the edge of the bed, whispering back and forth, she almost thought it was cute, the way they cared for one another. She thought that before remembering that they were morons. Loud, crying morons.

Yvie left, outfitted with a sling and a prescription for ibuprofen, hand in hand with Scarlet, who whipped out a spare bottle of eucalyptus oil from her purse with a wicked grin the minute they passed the emergency room doors. She dropped a bit onto her hands—muttering something about the mean nurse—and rubbed it into Yvie’s arm, her touch feather light and warm.

She stuck the bottle back in her purse and took her hand again. “How about we get you home and get you some ice?” She hailed them a cab. “I’ll make that french toast and you can just lay on the couch and appreciate the part of our tree that’s still lit, yeah?”


	18. The Bracelet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello y’all! Here’s another snippet from Girlfriends Without Benefits for day 18. Enjoy!

Yvie didn’t have a problem with meeting Scarlet’s college friends for brunch. They were funny and excited about Yvie as Scarlet’s new girlfriend, running her through the litany of ‘How did you meet?’ and ‘How long have you been together?’ questions. Her omelette was tasty—as were Scarlet’s crepes, which she snuck a bite of while Scarlet was discussing her newest ad campaign. The mimosas were bottomless, leaving her feeling light and airy. But there was still something off. 

Through her tipsy haze, she caught a glimpse of a delicate gold chain, dotted with little clear stones. And she could have sworn she remembered that bracelet on Scarlet’s thin wrist. She could have sworn she remembered Scarlet pulling up a picture of her wearing it as she asked if Yvie had seen it laying around the apartment, distressed over the prospect of losing it. 

Yes, it came in much clearer as she found herself peering over at Scarlet’s bare wrist while she animatedly explained the shoe campaign, elaborating on how neons are really coming back. She was now sure that bracelet belonged to Scarlet.

She looked the blonde across from her up and down while taking another sip of her mimosa, gulping heavily. 

Scarlet looked better in the bracelet anyway. 

“Psssst. Scarlet.” Yvie squeezed Scarlet’s thigh under the table, feeling the slip of Scarlet’s tights against her fingers, seeing Scarlet jump. “Scarlet. Scaaarlet” 

Scarlet let her conversation trail off, turning to Yvie. “What is is baby?” 

Yvie nearly blanked, an incessant flush that she’d surely blame on the alcohol rising from her chest and up her neck. But then she heard Scarlet’s blonde friend’s bangles clanging as she reached for the maple syrup and she was brought back to reality. 

“Is that your bracelet? On the blonde one?” 

“Brooke?” Scarlet peered over inconspicuously—as inconspicuous as she could be after three mimosas. “No, I don’t wear cheap bangles.”

Yvie snorted, catching Brooke’s attention mid-bite. 

Scarlet gripped Yvie’s knee, trying to steady her while holding back her own giggle, fully unaware of the scene they were causing across the table. 

“No,” Yvie finally broke out, pointing at Brooke’s wrist. “The blonde one’s got that little chain bracelet. The one you lost months ago.” She wrapped an arm around Scarlet’s shoulder, pulling her closer, so she could see what Yvie was seeing. 

“Holy fuck that’s my bracelet,” Scarlet hissed back. “I asked her if she had it and she said she already gave it back to me.”

Brooke’s fork clanged against her plate. “Okay, why are you two pointing at me?” 

Yvie finished her drink, her words spilling the moment she swallowed the last of her mimosa, waving the glass in Brooke’s direction. “I think you’re wearing Scarlet’s bracelet.” 

“No,” Brooke began firmly, much more controlled. “As she said, she doesn’t wear _cheap bangles_.” 

Yvie reached over to grab Brooke’s wrist, pushing the bangles aside to reveal the delicate gold chain. “Try to tell me this isn’t my girlfriend’s bracelet,” Yvie slurred out. “Just try to tell me that. I’ll wait.” Yvie dropped her wrist and folded her arms. 

“That was my grandma’s bracelet,” Scarlet added in a little voice, now running her hand up and down Yvie’s arm, trying to ease her, trying to get her to uncross them. 

“You really stole my girlfriend’s grandma’s bracelet?” She shook a finger at Brooke, voice rising. “Do you have no shame?” 

Scarlet lowered Yvie’s arm, holding her hand to keep her grounded, speaking much softer, hoping to bring the tone down, storing the way Yvie said _girlfriend_ away for later. “Brooke, why do you have my bracelet?”

“I don’t.” She took a sip of white wine. 

“Bullshit.” Yvie surged forward, her words forging a brazen, rambling sentence, her breath fire and her arguments pointed. “Scarlet wore that bracelet for months after we first moved in together. She wore it when she was a bridesmaid a few months ago. She used to take it off while washing the dishes and she put it in the little dish she brought home from Goodwill, the one with the fish painted on it. We looked for that thing for weeks and to think that you—” 

“A month,” Scarlet corrected timidly. 

“Months!” Yvie escalated, rubbing the back of Scarlet’s hand with her thumb in a silent reassurance. “And you come in here wearing it? You come in here with the nerve to say it’s not hers? Like it didn’t belong to her own grand—”

“Okay fine!” Brooke unclipped the bracelet, dropping it on the table before throwing back the rest of her wine and gathering her things in haste. “It was very nice meeting you, Yvangeline.” She tossed back to Yvie, putting her coat on and turning on her heel before Yvie could throw back a sneering “likewise.” 

“Yvie, you didn’t have to—” 

“Yes I did.” She cut Scarlet off, snatching up the bracelet from the middle of the table, wiping the hollandaise off of it with the corner of her shirt before securing it carefully around Scarlet’s wrist, her movements now nimble and sure. “You really loved that bracelet.”

Scarlet nodded and placed a kiss on Yvie’s cheek, warm and smiling against her. Scarlet did love that bracelet, among other things. 


	19. Velvet Ribbon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi ya’ll! Here’s another little piece of Starbucks au for day 19—hopefully I’ll get this whole fic out before Christmas. Enjoy!

Scarlet was always in the Christmas spirit. She usually had Christmas bows stuck on the straps of her apron. Sometimes she had little earrings that looked like presents dangling from her ears, all shiny and red, catching the soft light of the store overheads when she tilted just right, holding a twenty dollar bill up above her to check it. She even had this solar powered figurine of a dancing Santa out in front of her register for a few weeks, before explaining with a pout that her manager made her put it away. 

But today, Scarlet had her hair tied up in a red velvet ribbon, something you’d use to wrap the most decadent present, something you’d think couldn’t form a perfected, fluffy bow on a flat box, let alone someone’s hair. 

Scarlet made it work nonetheless. She used that ribbon to tie her hair back from her face—missing a few of those golden brown tendrils that just touched the corners of her sharp jaw. The sheen of the velvet was soft. Yvie could picture herself brushing Scarlet’s hair back from her face, smoothing down the bits around her hairline that frizzed from the humidity of the espresso machine’s steam, her long, languid fingers wrapping around the ribbon and tugging lightly, watching it unravel, watching her hair tumble down, all wavy and—.

“Fuck!” Yvie groaned at the scalding liquid of a woman’s hot chocolate burning her chest, settling into her white dress shirt. She could barely hear her apologies, how she didn’t see where she was going, over her head throbbing in time with the pain. 

Really, Yvie didn’t even know she was walking, let alone walking into someone else with a hot drink, but her distraction was beside the point. 

Scarlet capped off the iced coffee she was making, set it on the counter, and grabbed a clean rag, rushing over to help her. 

“Oh my god, Yvie.” She took the latte from Yvie’s still hands—still frozen in place even with nothing in them, and set it down on the counter. “Here, let me help you.”

She dabbed at the front of Yvie’s shirt, pressing lightly, tutting about a spill like this always happening in the store around this time, what with everyone running around with the holidays coming up. It was only six thirty a.m. and there couldn’t be too many people rushing around shopping or tying things up before the holidays at this time—it was still dark, even. But Yvie’s brain fell slack at Scarlet’s touch. She only hummed in response, her arms still stiff, still missing her coffee. 

Scarlet grinded at her bottom lip, one hand on Yvie’s shoulder, another turning the rag over to find a clean spot, pressing at the spill across Yvie’s chest. She stole a glance down at Scarlet, pulling away the moment Scarlet caught her. She pretended she was very interested in her latte sitting on the counter. Much more interested in that than Scarlet dabbing at her chest, of course.

“Um, excuse me.” The woman poked Scarlet’s shoulder. “Could you remake this for me?” She held up her cup, empty, it’s contents now between Yvie’s shirt and Scarlet’s rag. 

“Yeah, yeah, no problem.” Scarlet pulled the cup from her hand and set it down on the counter, shooing her away with what would have looked like a glare if not on Scarlet’s kind face. 

She continued dabbing, really achieving nothing more to ease the staining. “Well,” she drew out, throwing the rag over her shoulder. “That’s about the best I can do, Yves. Hopefully you can get the stain out.” Scarlet smoothed at the shirt one last time, steeling Yvie’s spine with a frigid chill. 

“Yeah. Uh…thanks.” Yvie tore herself away, grabbing blindly at her latte. “I should probably. I um…” words failed her as she caught sight of Scarlet undoing and pulling her hair back again, tying that same ribbon with her careful fingers, with such concentration. 

“I gotta get to work.” Yvie headed out, dodging other customers. 

“See ya!” Scarlet called after her, tugging at the ends of her ponytail, watching Yvie skirt out the door. 


	20. Mistletoe in The Department—or, in which Silky pulls some shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi y’all! Here’s some angsty DOPS scyvie for day 20. Please enjoy and get ready for more angstier angst tomorrow!

“You ain’t catchin shit with that mistletoe, Mary.” Vanjie shook her pen at Silky, who stood on top of A’keria’s desk, A’keria holding at her ankles loosely, trying to stick a dangling bundle of mistletoe between the yellowing ceiling tiles. 

Silky shoved it in with a ruler, poking at it adamantly until she was satisfied with her work, hands on her hips, marveling at the mistletoe. 

“You keep runnin that mouth and I’m gonna be stickin you and Miss. Brooke Lynn under that mistletoe.” A’keria let out a low whistle as Silky dismounted from her desk, striding on over to Vanjie. “So don’t try me, Mary.” 

A man in an orange puffy vest and a Rick and Morty t-shirt walked into The Department, holding a safety cone in his hands. He looked up at the dangling mistletoe above him, then back at A’keria—who was tapping away at her phone with her usual air of disinterest—with a slick smile spreading across his face. He cleared his throat and pointed up at it. 

“Can I help you?” A’keria didn’t even pay him a glance. 

“You got this mistletoe—” 

“And you got that cone,” A’keria shot back. “So I guess we both got things.” 

Scarlet snorted from across the room. Yvie coughed to hide her laughter. 

So he resigned and explained how the city just left these cones in front of his house and he came to give them back in. A’keria sent him to Brooke’s office and returned to her phone and her man’s many texts. 

“Silk, you ain’t trappin those two morons,” Vanjie whispered, watching Scarlet and Yvie whisper back and forth, sitting a little too closely, ignoring the work they pulled up on Yvie’s monitor. 

“Well I can try.”

Vanjie shoved her shoulder. “Scarlet’s wife’s comin for the party today, so don’t pull shit.” 

Silky stole another glance at those idiots, thinking about how touchy they were regardless, Scarlet crossing over Yvie’s arm to highlight something, practically laying over her. 

Then Silky noticed a file she was supposed to deliver to the clerk’s office before the end of the day. 

She looked back at those idiots, running her finger over the file. 

It was 4:47 p.m. Surely Scarlet could run it over, especially if Silky made herself look sufficiently busy.

“Silk, don’t go pullin some shit,” Vanjie warned. 

Silky was gonna pull some shit. 

“Hey Scarlet,” She called across the room. “Can you run this over to the clerk’s real quick? I’m swamped over here.” She waved the folder. 

Scarlet perked up and came right over to snatch up the file, much to the annoyance of Yvie, who flashed her angry eyes at Silky as Scarlet walked out of the department, somehow avoiding the dangling mistletoe. 

And just as Silky suspected, about ten minutes later, Scarlet wandered back in and found herself under the mistletoe. 

“She’s stuck there!” Silky bounced around her desk. A’keria rolled her eyes at the antics. The longer Scarlet was trapped under the mistletoe, the longer Scarlet would try starting a conversation with A’keria, which she did not want. Not one bit. A’keria didn’t want to be asked about her honeymoon again. 

“Just a kiss and she’s unstuck,” Silky added, looking in Yvie’s direction, only receiving a mouthed don’t in return. 

Vanjie shook her head. “Stop it, Silk.” 

Scarlet spun around aimlessly before landing on her wife, emerging from the office across the hall, headed her way. 

“What are you doing just standing here?” Brigid came up next to Scarlet, fully ignoring everyone else in the department, even as they watched them intently. 

Scarlet pointed up. “I got stuck,” she said, jutting out her bottom lip in playful annoyance. “And I need a kiss.” 

Brigid sighed and placed a peck on her waiting lips. It was quick, barely touching. 

It didn’t feel that way to Yvie. She felt like her heart tied to an anchor, sinking to the bottom of the ocean. Down, down, ever downward, just at the sight of Scarlet and Brigid not more than ten feet in front of her. 

Vanjie gave Silky another smack on the arm, tilting her head inconspicuously toward Yive, who was now pretending to be all too wrapped up in her work to greet Brigid. “That’s what happens when you pull some shit.” 


	21. A Grand Gesture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi y’all! Welp, this fic was labeled “big angst, huge” in my ficmas folder and soon you’ll know why. Here’s some more angsty dops for day 21 of ficmas. Enjoy!

Yvie’s head shot up at every sound she heard. Palms flat, splayed over her papers. Eyes alert. She relaxed again when she realized it was only A’keria, moseying on in with her coffee and bagel from the cafeteria down the hall, falling back into her seat, and stashing her wallet away. 

She didn’t bother giving Yvie a look. Yvie had been jumpy all morning. 

Namely, she was jumpy because Scarlet wasn’t in yet. She stole another glance over at her desk— just a few feet from her own— her anxiety mounting at Scarlet’s absence. 

She tried to busy herself with work. She had a stack of essays from the Police Academy to grade. But it wasn’t like was like anything would be able to hold her focus today, not until Yvie had the chance to ask Scarlet a deeply important and all occupying question—and she couldn’t do that without Scarlet in the office. 

Yvie planned it all perfectly. She stopped by Starbucks in the morning and picked up Scarlet’s typical holiday order—a grande blonde eggnog latte with extra whip—which was now sitting in a carrier behind her desk. And she bought Scarlet a new plant for her desk—this little cactus in a soft blue pot that was already flowering with coral blossoms—because she knew Scarlet was upset that the cleaning crew accidentally knocked over her old plant, though she insisted it was fine. And she planned what she was going to say too. She sat down and figured out how to articulate years of friendship, years of loving her little jokes and her careful words and how she chewed at her cheek when she focused, and, well…all of Scarlet. 

It had been almost a month since her and Brigid had their big fight, the fight that meant it was over. It had been almost a month since Yvie showed up at Scarlet’s apartment with takeout pad-thai, a bottle of two-buck chuck, and a little weed. It had been almost a month since they fell asleep on Scarlet’s couch while _All About Eve_ ran its course on the TV before them for the second time, Scarlet’s head buried in Yvie’s chest, her bloodshot eyes finally drawing closed, her heaving sobs subsiding.

Yvie figured it was the perfect time to ask Scarlet on a proper date. 

Scarlet finally came rushing into the office, bouncing over to A’keria’s desk, thrusting her hand in front of her monitor.

A’keria’s glare melted as she got a good look at the sight in front of her, the reckless beaming of Scarlet’s smile, the way she waved her left hand in her face until A’keria just grabbed it to hold her steady in one place. 

The engagement ring, glistening under the fluorescents. 

Yvie stood up, pulling Scarlet’s coffee from the carrier. 

“Holy shit,” A’keria whispered, turning Scarlet’s hand over, back and forth. “I thought…but you and Brigid—”

“She proposed!” Scarlet ripped herself away, heading right for the center of the room, spinning around in her billowing winter coat and heavy snow boots. “She proposed last night!” 

Yvie put the eggnog latte down. 

Scarlet tore over to Yvie, breathlessly muttering her name as she nearly slammed into the edge of her desk, flashing the ring at her. “Yvie look.” She was softer now, her voice delicate, pillowy, caught up in her throat. “She proposed last night. Look.” 

That morning, Yvie had cleared the snow off the bench they always took their morning break on—Yvie with her cigarettes and Scarlet with her second cup of coffee—so they could talk in front of the fresh, untouched snow.

She took her hand, studying the ring. It was round and perfect— a glittering stone on her perfect finger. 

That morning, Yvie ran through her whole speech in her head while getting dressed, everything about how she hoped Scarlet felt the same way about her as she’s felt for years, about how Yvie wanted to treat her as kindly as she deserved to be treated. 

“It’s so beautiful.” Scarlet was crying now, thin streams down her still frost-kissed cheeks. “I didn’t think she would, but she did.” Scarlet’s hands were soft. 

This wasn’t what she planned. 

“It’s beautiful, Scarlet.” Yvie could taste the salt of her own tears teasing at the corner of her mouth. 

Yvie had planned it all perfectly. 

“Look at us, we’re both crying.” Scarlet rounded the corner, taking Yvie into her arms, resting her head in the crook of her neck. “I’m so happy,” she whispered. “Thank you for being happy with me.” 

She pulled away, holding Yvie by the shoulders, only an arm’s length away for a moment. Then she nodded and wiped some tears away before cycling through the rest of the office, showing them the ring, explaining Brigid’s grand gestures—the rose petals, the candles, the hired string quartet at the restaurant, how everyone applauded—nodding gleefully when they reassured Scarlet they knew she’d be hearing wedding bells soon enough, all it took was some waiting. And Scarlet’s waiting was finally up. 

Scarlet came back to her desk, immediately spotting the cactus, lighting up at the sight. She picked it up and studied it. 

“Oh, I was telling Brigid last month about how I needed a new cactus.” She smiled to herself. “I wonder if she brought one in this morning.” Scarlet shrugged before settling into her seat, placing the cactus back in it’s perfect position on the corner of her desk. 

“Yeah, uh…” Yvie shuffled some papers, busying herself, dreading having to look back up at Scarlet again. “Yeah I saw her come in with it this morning.” 

“How thoughtful,” Scarlet mused, opening up her laptop with a satisfied little smile, tilting her hand up to steal one last glance at her ring before signing in. 

Yvie nodded. Yvie had planned it all perfectly. 


	22. Yvie's Cookies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi y’all! It’s time for the last dops drabble of the Christmas season :(. Here’s some early, early dops Scyvie for day 22. Enjoy!

“I made cookies.” Yvie came up to the reception desk, resting her elbows on the counter, extending the tin, only inches away from Scarlet’s face. “Here, try a cookie.” 

“Ooh okay. Thank you, Yvie. They look—” Scarlet pulled one from the tin and held it up in front of her, running her finger over the sharp edges, the way Yvie so obviously didn’t have a cookie cutter and instead freehanded it with a knife to make this vaguely leafy thing. 

She lowered her voice, lowering Yvie’s outstretched tin. “Yvie, are these…” She sniffed the cookie. “Are these supposed to be weed cookies?” 

“Scarlet, why the fuck would I—” She took a cookie, realizing both that it looked a little bit like a marijuana leaf, with it’s points and lumpy, dark green glaze, and that weed cookies were not the dumbest idea Scarlet’s ever had.

“Right?” She stuck the cookie in Yive’s face. “Right?”

“Okay, well they’re just normal cookies that I made. Do you still want to try it?” 

Scarlet huffed playfully. “Well of course I do, Yves.” 

She took a bite, her face immediately pulling back as she bit through the cookie, the rest crumbling in her hands. Then she tasted the artificial mint and the heavy cinnamon, in what had to be pockets of the cookie. She nearly sputtered as the cinnamon made its way to her throat, along with the sandy grains of the cookie, the sheet of glaze still resting on her tongue, refusing to melt away, too sticky to properly chew. 

Yvie sucked in a breath. “Is it really that bad?” 

Scarlet swallowed the last of it, grabbing her mug and gulping down some tea. “You put a lot of work into these.” 

“That means they’re bad.”

“Yeah, they’re bad.” Scarlet scrapped the last bits of cookie out of her teeth with her tongue. “They’re not good.” 

Yvie’s face fell. “I thought they were gonna be nice this year. I found a recipe for these little ivy leaf cut outs and they looked so nice in the picture, with their shiny glaze, all arranged to look like a wreath on a Christmas plate.” 

“Hey it’s okay,” Scarlet took the tin from Yvie’s hand and placed it down on her desk, moving the green monstrosities away. “Baking’s hard.” 

“Well, how hard’s a spice cookie supposed to be?” 

Not very, Scarlet thought, though she’d never say that, and to be fair, it looked like Yvie didn’t even have the cookie cutter she needed to make an ivy leaf. “Was the spice cookie supposed to have all that mint?”

“I just added that because it was green.” Yvie pouted, wringing her fingers.

“Right.” Scarlet chuckled, easing her fingers apart. “Well, how about we try baking something else tonight? We could make some sugar cookies. I got a bunch of new holiday cookie cutters. You come over and I’ll show you have to make them.” 

A smile broke through. “Yeah okay,” Yvie said. “But what do I do with these?” Grabbed the tin and shook it. 

“Hey miss,” A burly man gritted out, shoving past Yvie to rest on Scarlet’s desk, sticking a folded paper in Scarlet’s face. “You left this in my mail and I ain’t payin’ no sixty-two dollars for _leaving broken glass on current resident’s sidewalk_ ,” He quoted. “I got a right to my private property and my broken glass.”

Yvie swallowed her anger. “Excuse me sir, but the sidewalk is public—” 

Scarlet lit up, sticking the cookie tin between the two, coating her voice in all the sugary sweetness she could muster. 

“Would you like a cookie sir?” 


	23. Power Outage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi y’all! Here’s some more Girlfriends Without Benefits Scyvie for day 23. Enjoy!

“I think we’ve done enough,” Yvie said to Scarlet from the couch, were she now sat, feet propped up, letting Scarlet finish decorating the apartment. They’d been at it for hours, but Scarlet still insisted on tacking icicle lights around the door frames to make what she called ‘extra festive fringe.’

Yvie called it ‘another thing to run into while tired or drunk,’ but Scarlet was insistent, even when Yvie tagged out of decorating duty in favor of picking out a Christmas movie to watch after Scarlet finished fiddling with her lights and push pins.

“Just this last strand.” Scarlet held it up, still trying to untangle it. “Then I’ll be done. I promise.”

Yvie rolled her eyes. “You said that two strands ago,” she replied, easing into a sing-songy tone, which Scarlet did not appreciate, sticking her tongue out at Yvie before finishing up the strand above the bathroom door, pushing a final thumbtack into place.

She stepped off the kitchen chair, stuck it back under the table, then scurried over to the powerstrip— which was filled with extension cords on extension cords, some strands of lights plugged into one another, nearly toppling over from the mass of plugs, and took up the main plug, holding it up before her.

“Okay just watch,” Scarlet said, crouching down, skirting behind the Christmas tree to reach the outlet. “It’ll be all worth it when it’s plugged in.”

“Uh huh.” Yvie continued flicking through Netflix titles, trying not to sound disinterested. Really, she wasn’t. It was quite cute how Scarlet got about her decorations, how she preened over the tree, how she mapped out her lights just so. But as cute as it was, they were now entering hour seven of decorating and Yvie was growing tired.

“Three, two, one!” Scarlet plugged it in.

A faint “fuck” was heard from behind the tree as Scarlet tried to shake the static from her fingers. The TV fizzled out to a black screen. Moments later, the overhead lights wavered before faltering as well, leaving Scarlet and Yvie in their dark apartment.

Yvie stumbled to the light switch and tried flicking it on and off. “Well, we blew the power.”

“It’s probably just an outage.” Scarlet sank into the couch, nearly missing the edge as she sat. “It’ll be back on soon enough.”

“We blew the power, Scarlet,” Yvie mumbled back, though she hoped Scarlet didn’t hear and above all, hoped Scarlet was right.

Scarlet was not right. Fifteen minutes later, while Scarlet lit every candle she owned and scattered them throughout their apartment, Yvie called maintenance, who assured them that it was an outage only in their unit, but that they wouldn’t be able to fix the blown fuse until morning.

Scarlet set a hot cocoa scented candle in the center of the kitchen table. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m sure it would have been so good if it lit.”

“It will be when I try it again tomorrow,” Scarlet assured her, ethereal in her candle-lit glow, her sharpness bathed in the burnt golden light.

Yvie tore herself away. “How about after we get another power strip?” She found a couple containers of leftover Chinese in the fridge and took them out, holding her phone light up to them. “We should probably eat these before they go bad.”

Scarlet nodded, blindly grabbing for her container before Yvie pushed it toward her hand, exhaling a laugh. They settled in at the table, nearly ten lit candles of various scents between them.

“Wow, our first candlelit dinner as a fake couple,” Yvie mused between bites of lo mein. “How romantic.” Poked at Scarlet with her chopstick.

Scarlet batted her away. “Shut up, moron,” she said, looking down, poking at her food, breaking into a rosy smile, shared only with herself. “Keep it up and I’m gonna fake dump you.”

“I’d like to see you fake try.”


	24. A Christmas Bonus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi y’all. Here’s the last Starbucks au drabble of the ficmas season :(. Good news is, you can read more of this au in a week or so when I’m finished with the whole fic. Comment if you enjoyed!

“Just give me five more minutes, yeah?” Scarlet called across the counter, pouring milk into a cold cup. 

Yvie nodded, still waiting for Scarlet to finally get her lunch break so they could go out to the new sushi place down the block that Scarlet seemed excited to try. But the store was swamped, overfilled with people and sounds, Scarlet rushing around behind the counter to accommodate for the pre-lunch rush. 

Yvie fingered at a white felt stocking that hung in front of the pick-up counter, with its messy red stitches along the edges and along the little silver stars decorating the front and back,  _ Scarlet  _ piped along the top in silver glitter in her perfect loopy handwriting. 

“Cute decorations, babe,” Yvie said to Scarlet, watching her drop off two iced lattes at the end of the counter. “You got your own stocking.” 

“Yeah.” Scarlet turned away for a moment, taking up the drink in her hand, scanning over its markings with speed and accuracy. “Iced venti chai for Megan,” she shouted over the mounting din, handing it off to Megan with a little slip of paper, a grin, and a  _ have a wonderful holiday, Megan  _ in her all too cheerful tone. Far, far too cheerful for being covered in what looked to be dried, spilled milk. 

A man picked up the other drink. She nodded, wishing him a happy holiday as well, ripping off another slip of paper and handing it to him. At the sight of the little snowman drawn on his cup, he thanked her. 

Scarlet turned back to Yvie, pulling her hair back and resecuring it with a silver scrunchie. “Yeah so the stocking isn’t really decoration, it’s for customers to vote for their favorite or best barista.” Scarlet held up a pad of tear off paper, shaped like Holiday Starbucks cups, tapping at it adamantly. “Whoever gets the most votes gets a  _ bonus _ . It’s like a morale booster.” 

Yvie studied Scarlet as she held up the pad of coffee cups, how her eyes crinkled at her edges; how she leaned forward, explaining that everyone who got a drink got one of them to vote with; how she peered over the lip of the counter before asking Yvie to “guestimate...how many votes do I have?” She pulled herself up, looking Yvie in the eye. “Like, more or less than twelve?” 

Yvie crouched down, poking at each stocking. Really, all of them looked nearly empty. She could see a few slips stuck in Scarlet’s stocking though. And a straw wrapper. But a few votes for sure. 

“Uh, I don’t think a lot of people are voting,” Yvie replied gently, watching as Scarlet pressed her lips together before putting a smile back on. 

“So that means less than twelve.” 

She couldn’t understand Scarlet’s fixation on having these votes, but she did understand that Scarlet had to feel hurt by this contest, especially given that her past confidence wasn’t misplaced—if people were voting, she’d be blowing all the other baristas out of the water. 

“Yes, but no one else—” 

“It’s fine, Yvie.” Scarlet sighed, restocking the sleeves. “I would have liked the money, maybe use it for some new headshots, but it’s whatever. It’s literally fine.” She glanced off into the store, noticing the diminished line. She untied her apron. “Let’s just go to lunch, yeah?”

At the sight of Scarlet’s tight little frown, surely trying in vain to assure Yvie that she really was fine with not getting these little votes, being looked over despite all her hard work, Yvie decided to do something about it. Something bold. She snatched up the little pad of paper from the counter and climbed on the coffee table. 

“Attention. Everyone’s attention,” she bellowed, voice warm, forceful, a slowly spreading fire, continuing only when she had enough eyes on her. Continuing despite Scarlet’s shuffling, apron still half on, eyes darting between her girlfriend and the customers. 

It was time to put forth a few arguments. She was a lawyer after all. 

“I am under the impression that we all received one of these slips of paper, yes?” She held up the little pad, earning a grumble in response, a few people digging through their jacket pockets to find it. 

“You may use this paper to vote for your favorite barista, using the corresponding stocking, to my left.” She glanced over, finding Scarlet stuck in the same position, still fixed on the scene Yvie was putting on. 

“I will be placing my vote for Scarlet, and I firmly believe you all should as well.” Yvie held up her latte from that morning, now cold, containing only the last dregs of espresso. “Every coffee Scarlet made today has a snowman drawn on the side of it. She takes the time to make us cute little drawings to brighten our days.” She watched as a few people turned their cups around, peering over at the little snowman, chuckling at his little stick hands, some of her drawings featuring speech bubbles with funny snowman sayings in them. 

“Furthermore, Scarlet gives everyone a personalized greeting and the occasional bad holiday joke. You cannot leave here without your day being even the slightest bit brightened by that care and kindness.” 

“And lastly, Scarlet—” Yvie pointed over at her, voice softening, her timbre warm and crackling as opposed to the fire before. “Scarlet is the nicest, most positive person here. She has remade countless drinks with a smile. She has burns all over her fingers from toasting your bagels just right and steaming your milk.” She fixed her gaze to Scarlet. “She has dreams beyond this. She is beyond this. And yet she comes in every day ready and able to make everyone she meets day—hell, sometimes their life—better.” She faced the crowd once more, tearing off a slip of paper, waving it out in front of her. “Your vote is the least she deserves. Thank you.” 

Yvie stepped down, returning to the counter to gather her things and take Scarlet out to lunch. 

Scarlet looked between Yvie and the people who began to step forward, sticking their slips in Scarlet’s stocking, exhaling peacefully, her brow faltering, eyes watery. “Thank you. You didn’t have—” 

Yvie shook her head adamantly. “Yes I did. Let’s get lunch babe.” 

So Scarlet grabbed her coat and bag, rounding the counter, taking Yvie’s hand in hers as they strode out of the store and out into the bustling street. 

Yvie stroked he knuckles with her thumb, waiting for the  _ do not cross _ sign to turn. “Well,” she began. “I’m sure you have more than twelve now.” 

Scarlet yanked Yvie down a bit, rising up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on her cheek, Yvie diverting, turning accept a quick peck on the lips and Scarlet’s residual giggle. 

“Thank you,” Scarlet muttered against her jaw. “I love you.” 

Yvie clasped Scarlet’s hand again. “I love you too.”


	25. Christmas Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi ya’ll! Well, ficmas is coming to a close, but hopefully you’ll enjoy this lovely bit of Girlfriends Without Benefits scyvie on Christmas morning. I’d like to thank Meggie for setting up and coordinating this whole challenge—it was a lot of work and she handled it all with grace. I can’t wait to see the next challenge! Anyway, comment and share if you enjoyed and happy holidays to all!

“Yvie Yvie Yvie _Yvie_ ,” Scarlet squealed, running into Yvie’s room, nearly slipping on the hardwood floors in her fuzzy socks as she turned the corner, slamming into the door frame. She launched herself on her sleeping best friend, fitting her legs on either side of her, hovering over her hips, poking at her nose.

“Yvie, _Yvie_.” She poked again. “Yvie, it’s Christmas.” 

But Yvie kept sleeping, despite Scarlet settling down on her hips, shaking Yvie’s shoulders. She continued to snore, even as Scarlet bounced up and down, taking Yvie’s face in her hands, still trying to shake her awake. 

Yvie let out a little groan, turning her head and continuing her snoring. 

Scarlet huffed, sitting back up again. She took Yvie’s arm up and let it flop back down. 

Then she spotted the open bottle of melatonin on her bedside table. Of course she’d induced a deep sleep on Christmas Eve—probably because Scarlet always tried to wake her up like this. She pushed the thought out of her mind and climbed off of Yvie. 

It was only half past four. So, Scarlet crawled back into her bed and set an alarm for 6:30 a.m., letting Yvie have a bit more sleep before trying again.

And at 6:30, at the first ring of her alarm, she sprung up and made another mad dash for Yvie’s room, again, leaping on top of her, yelling. “It’s Christmas time!” She came in closer, pressed against her chest, brushing the hair away from her ear, shouting again “Yvie it’s time for Christmas!”

Yvie’s lips flattened into a frown, her eyes fluttering open with a groan, grasping blindly at Scarlet’s t-shirt. “What?” 

Scarlet sat up, resting her elbows on Yvie’s chest. “It’s Christmas time!” 

“Oh my god,” Yvie croaked out, trying to roll over but finding it impossible with Scarlet on top of her. “Why are you yelling?”

“Why?” Scarlet asked incredulously. “Because it’s Christmas, silly.” 

Yvie’s hand snaked out from under her covers, slapping aimlessly at her nightstand before she found her phone. She held it up above her face, then out for Scarlet to see. “It’s not Christmas, it’s 6 a.m.” 

“6:30” Scarlet gleefully poked at her nose once more

“Fine.” Yvie sighed, poking Scarlet right back with a sleepy, shaking finger. “It’s not Christmas, it’s 6:30”

“Well, technically Christmas starts at midnight, so…”

“Technically time is a construct.” Yvie pointed out, pulling her covers out from under Scarlet, who showed no signs of moving, making herself comfortable on top of Yvie, probably tired as well, though she didn’t show it. 

“Come on, dumbass, let’s go to bed until it’s actually Christmas morning.” She pulled Scarlet in closer, telling herself it was partially because she didn’t want Scarlet to try to get up and subsequently make her get up, and partially because Scarlet seemed a little drowsy herself. No other reasons— certainly not liking the weight of Scarlet laying on her or seeing the splay of Scarlet’s hair fan across her chest. 

She lazily pulled the comforter over both of them, her arms wrapping back around Scarlet’s waist, her interlocked hands rising and falling with Scarlet’s steadying breaths, which slowly turned into open-mouthed snores. Yvie found her eyes coming to a close as well, dozing off—all wrapped in the soft, faded green comforter and one another—after Scarlet’s momentary interruption. 

They woke hours later, the sunlight filtering between Yvie’s half opened blinds, striking the two of them as they lay together. 

Yvie rubbed her eyes, surprised to see Scarlet still draped over top of her, her arm slung over Yvie’s belly, her fingers brushing against the raised hem of her tank top. 

“Wasn’t it nice to sleep a little more?” Yvie freed her arm from under Scarlet, resting it on the small of her back. 

Scarlet hummed and came in closer, slotting her leg in between Yvie’s, nuzzling into her chest. “Five more minutes.” Scarlet muttered, resting her chin on Yvie’s chest to meet her soft, marveling gaze. “But after that I’ll be dragging you out to the living room to open presets.” 

Yvie sighed, masking her endearment as Scarlet laid her head back down against her chest, resigning herself to doing whatever Scarlet wanted when she woke. So long as she got to watch Scarlet fawn over her gifts. So long as they could curl up on the couch with the pecan pie Scarlet’s moms sent up from Kentucky, a couple forks, and _Christmas Vacation_ playing in the background. So long as it involved her with Scarlet, it would be a perfect Christmas morning.


End file.
